


Can't Go Back

by JustJim, Useless_girl



Series: Home Is Where the Spark Is [11]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Aged up characters, Alpha Derek, Angst, Blood, Dark, Depression, Detective Stiles, Drama, Emissary in Training Stiles, Epic Romance, Gore, Hurt/Comfort, Insanity, Love, M/M, Magic, Magic Stiles, PTSD, R (explicit), Slash, Soulmates, Spark Stiles, Supernatural - Freeform, Switch Stiles, Temporary Blindness, Trauma, Triggers, Werewolves, canon and non-canon elements, emissary bond, emissary stiles, m/m - Freeform, mate bond, matured Stiles, post-Teen Wolf, sterek, switch derek, temporary disability
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-06
Updated: 2020-06-06
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:07:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 24,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24568972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustJim/pseuds/JustJim, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Useless_girl/pseuds/Useless_girl
Summary: The battle for Derek’s sanity is a hard one and it comes with a heavy price as well as more sacrifices on the mates’ part. Luckily, they aren’t alone in this battle.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Series: Home Is Where the Spark Is [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1607563
Comments: 11
Kudos: 32





	1. 11: Can't Go Back - Part 1

**Note:** This is the 11th part of the “[Home Is Where the Spark Is](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1607563)” series. To understand better what’s going on, we recommend reading the previous entries. Enjoy!

 **Fandoms:** Teen Wolf, Sterek

 **Characters/relationships:** Stiles Stilinski/Derek Hale, Alan Deaton, Marin Morrell

 **Rating/category:** R (explicit), supernatural, post-Teen Wolf, canon and non-canon elements, slash, M/M, Sterek, hurt/comfort, dark, angst, aged up characters, Spark Stiles, Magic Stiles, Emissary Stiles, Emissary in training Stiles, detective Stiles, matured Stiles, Alpha Derek, switch Derek, switch Stiles, drama, epic romance, love, magic, soulmates, Mate bond, Emissary bond, werewolves, PTSD, trauma, insanity, depression, blood, gore, triggers, temporary disability, temporary blindness

 **Summary:** The battle for Derek’s sanity is a hard one and it comes with a heavy price as well as more sacrifices on the mates’ part. Luckily, they aren’t alone in this battle.

 **Disclaimer:** This is a product of our imagination and was written only for entertainment and fun. We don’t profit from this fanfiction and we mean no harm or disrespect against any real person, culture or custom that might appear in the story. All original pictures and fictional characters used in the story belong to their respective owners and credit goes to them.

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[ _Juliette GD edit_ ](https://www.deviantart.com/juliettegd/art/Timeline-Sterek-Teen-Wolf-457226549) _  
_

**Home Is Where the Spark Is  
** _By Just Jim & Useless-girl_

**11: Can’t Go Back – Part 1**

Waking up without knowing what had happened, it was too familiar. It was too normal to even give it much thought. It would probably be easier to count the times he had fallen asleep normal instead of all the times he had been knocked out in some way. First thing he did was scent the air before he even opened his eyes. Old blood and bleach trickling at his sensitive nose. A warm body was curled up against him, which made him peek because that made him unsure. Stiles? The human was in fetus position, face pale, dried tear streaks staining with pink because of forgotten blood streaks and bandage wrapped around his arm. The sight of that made it all come rushing back in startling clarity he hadn’t been prepared for. Derek remembered Stiles looking at him with shock and pain before darkness had claimed him.  
  
The bandage… that was something he had done. The wolf glanced to his hand, the nails dark with dried blood from where his claws had torn into somebody who had been trying to help. Because he thought he had been Lucifer. The realization crushed him, it was bad enough he had harmed Stiles in rut but this was much worse: he could have killed him, would have maybe if he had been more broken. More broken? Who was he kidding? He was completely and utterly in pieces.

 _‘It would be kinder to put him down.’  
  
_Marin had said that, he had heard it but he hadn’t understood it, not until now. These moments of clarity weren’t going to come very often. He was but a figurine of glass, dropped too often with pieces missing and cracks all over. One little gust of wind and he’d be shattered to nothing. It wasn’t a question of _if_ , it was a matter of _when_. Stiles was going to find a way, he knew that, but he was suffering so much already. With a shaking hand, Derek reached out to push some of the unruly hair away from the mole-dotted face, leaning in to scent him. He smelled like tears and sorrow and pain, because Stiles had given so much already and gained so very little in return.  
  
“I love you,” Derek breathed, placing a kiss on his cheek. “I’m going to protect you too.” Quietly as only a werewolf could, he extracted himself from the corner, keeping his eyes closed because he couldn’t see the hallucinations right now and he needed to do this while he was still able to. Making his way outside to the balcony, he opened his eyes to look over the town, the morning light casting a misty glow over everything. It was a beautiful sight to look at, or should have been before it all turned and twisted into something it wasn’t with blackened trees and destroyed buildings. Derek had picked this as his last sight, not Stiles because he didn’t want to see him as a corpse or as Lucifer. The world twisted around him, time was running out. Taking a deep breath, he let his claws grow on both hands and with his shuddering exhale, he plunged them into his own eyes.  
  
The pain was... it made him scream as warm blood streamed along his cheeks. Alpha claws meant the healing was going to be slow but he had raked them along the mountain ash lined neatly on the stone of the balcony. He couldn’t touch it nor break it and it hurt to scoop it up as he had done and there was no healing the eyes now with all the grains of ash in the ruined tissue. They’d heal without sight, but he still would have his alpha eyes to see.  
  
The hallucinations stopped.

Stiles' sleep was restless, but he only dreamed a few times and thankfully he didn't remember too many details. Just the feelings and colors stayed. Pain. Fear. Worry. Being chased. Trying to protect. Red. Black. Love. Sorrow.  
  
The next time he stirred was when something was messing with the mountain ash. The magic he had put in the lines protecting the loft and the building warned him and he saw the Nemeton's trunk flash in front of him. But what literally tore himself out of his dream was a scream and the stabbing pain in his eyeballs.  
  
He sat up with a start, hands going to his eyes as he was roaring with pain too. He wanted to claw them out, to make it stop, not understanding what was happening. He forced his hands away and looked at them but instead of blood they were wet only from his tears. He could barely feel the protesting throbbing in his bandaged up arm and he looked around half-blind from the pain and tears.  
  
"Derek?!" his breathing hitched when he didn't see his mate next to him. The burning eyes were searching the loft frantically while he stumbled onto his feet. His head got dizzy from the pain and blood loss and began pounding as if someone was drilling in there. "Derek!" he shouted with panic, trying to focus on their bond to track him down.  
  
The chilly morning breeze coming from the balcony was a big enough clue so he instinctively headed that way, trying not to fall flat on his face. It was a close call a few times, but somehow he managed to get outside. The sight made him choke on a scream of his own.  
  
"DEREK!" he hurried over, grabbing a shoulder for balance. "What have you done?!" he squeaked on a pathetically high tone, tears welling up in his throbbing eyes once more. Now he understood the source of the pain in them... On the wolf's face... there was blood and that substance...  
  
Stiles' empty stomach twisted and he dropped onto his knees devastated. To make things worse, the ugly sobs made a return too as panic started making air too thin, his chest too tight, his field of vision narrowing down.  
  
_Derek had blinded himself_. Just like Morrell warned. He shouldn't have sent her away. He should've been more in control over his emotions and magic. They should've acted immediately. And now... now Derek was blind.

"Hey, hey, it's okay, Stiles, it's okay." Blindly Derek reached for the sobbing human, not realizing his hands were stained with his own blood but they were a mess already anyways. Grappling with thin air, he reached and searched until he could pull the trembling body against his own, needing to have his anchor close, to have that heartbeat close, the one thing that calmed him even now through the throbbing pain. He hadn't even realized he was trembling as well until he had his mate close.  
  
Pressing his face against the human's neck, he inhaled his scent. "I had to stop the hallucinations, they were making it so hard to have moments like these. I bought us some time." It wasn't going to last forever, he was still broken and the many memories of everything he had gone through were going to get the better of him. But now he could focus on being here, on not seeing what wasn't real but deal with what was going on a little longer.  
  
"Don't cry. I can still see with my alpha eyes. And it's not forever, Jennifer healed Deucalion's eyes, you will heal mine someday too." Blood and tears were still pulsing out of the gauged sockets, the mountain ash burning away everything and yet he didn't even regret it once. That really hadn't been the best idea to make it permanent, because he had never dared to put mountain ash inside of him, especially after what had happened to Gerard. That had been warning enough.  
  
"I had to do this, for you. I hurt you because I couldn't see what was real. I don't care about my eyes if it keeps you safe. I had to for you." He was a little too frantic, a sign that this wasn't going to keep him sane but it was going to help them help him heal.

"Oh god..." Stiles whined, the middle of his chest throbbing with pain which pulsed in time with their bonds. Derek did this _for him_... It made his stomach churn again. "You shouldn't have... my silly wolf," Stiles reached up with one awfully trembling hand to caress the back of Derek's head, not caring that with the wolf's face against his neck he messed up the white T-shirt with the blood and tears and...  
  
The young mage focused on his breathing and to keep his magic from lashing out around them as it was reacting to his agitation and pain. After Morrell, his injury and now this – not to mention the panic and his exhaustion – it was getting difficult to control it because it was too off-balance by then.  
  
The only thing that managed to stop the panic attack to grow into a full-blown one was when Derek reminded Stiles that he was going to be able to use his alpha vision. Like Deucalion had. And of course the possibility of Stiles being able to heal his eyes one day. He thought he could do it right now too and his free hand itched to reach up and do it, but one, he was scared of messing it up in his current state, and two, then the hallucinations would be back. And Stiles didn't want Derek to suffer more from those. His rational mind tried to take lead over his messed up emotions and he let it. Derek deserved the relief of not seeing things constantly. He just wondered if that was going to stay once he uses his alpha eyes. Maybe they had the ability to see what was real. He wasn't in the right mindset to ask about that right now so he let Derek have this.  
  
"What will we say to Beth?" he whispered on a hoarse, barely there voice, his mind thinking ahead. With his dad and Melissa it was easy. They'd tell them the truth, but the little girl has been through enough, she didn't need more Hell-related trauma in her life. Once Derek will feel good enough (because Stiles had to firmly believe that the day will come!), they'll go back to the house and she'll have questions and probably cling to Derek for a long while.  
  
"And..." Stiles paused, his bandaged arm's hold around Derek tightened a bit. He ignored the dull pain throbbing up in his wounds from that. "I'm sorry... I know it's already a lot... but... I think we'll need to balance the magic while your mind is clear and you're with me. I don't want to trigger you," he swallowed hard.  
  
_Weak. You are weak, Stiles_ , he heard on Void's raspy voice which sent a shiver down his spine. It wasn't real, he reminded himself. He had the anti-possession tattoo on his chest. He was protected. Morrell was probably right and the insanity was somewhat bleeding through the bonds to him. They had to act fast to save Derek from it.  
  
"We'll have to weaken you with potions and magic so Marin's medicine can work on you. You won't be able to take my magic then and the longer I can hold the magic, the longer you have to heal. But... to be able to give as much time as possible, first we have to set back the already off-balance magic... I'm sorry. I'd skip this if it wasn't so important," he mumbled.

"It's fine, if it needs to be done, we'll do it." He'd like to wash out the ruined eyes to remove the mountain ash, bandage them so they could heal since he didn't even have eyelids anymore. If there had to be potions used to weaken him, then they would take even longer to heal but it was fine, the pain was going to be worth it as long as the hallucinations wouldn't return. Honestly, after everything he had already went through, being blind wasn't something he cared about, he had enough other senses to rely on. His worry was with the fact he was going to go insane rapidly and all they were doing was buying them time.  
  
Not for the first time, he was reminded of his own mortality, that no matter how much he trained himself to be built like a warrior, there was a fragility to him still. One big push and he'd snap, they both knew it, which was why there was a certain urgency with it all. There was no answer to what to tell Beth, it was a worry for later if they managed to beat Lucifer's game of breaking him. If they lost, it wasn't a problem they had to worry about. He could only hope that one day she'd know he had done it for her. That he hadn't meant to abandon her like her mother had done.  
  
This ritual… was it really fine? Was it going to be okay to feel the warmth of the magic wash over him? It scared Derek that he didn't know how he was going to react, he wasn't even sure if he could hold off the triggers without reacting violently. But Stiles was barely holding on, he needed this and it was the least Derek could give him. He would suggest moving inside, but he wasn't sure if they were even able to move at this point. Still, it was easier for Stiles should there be a bad reaction.  
  
"Inside. Too cold out here for you." The wolf's body was shivering too but it wasn't the cold, it was the pain, the emotions of holding himself together.

"Okay... But first we tend to your wounds," Stiles sniffed and pulled back, wiping off the remaining tears then took Derek's hand. The silence in itself was an answer to his question regarding Beth, so he didn't push it. Maybe Derek thought that he wouldn't make it so he didn't bother with answering it.  
  
As he helped Derek up from their kneeling position, he couldn't stop his thoughts from wandering. Memories of his mother came back. How difficult it was for her in the end. How difficult it was for Stiles to stomach that she barely recognized him. He wondered if she had seen things too as her brain deteriorated. Probably. Just like how Stiles had seen and done things while being possessed and thought he had the same disease. These memories were painful and made him even sadder, because Derek's condition was reminding him so much of his beloved late mother’s. But Stiles didn't say anything about it just carefully led Derek through the loft and into the bathroom.  
  
The first aid kit was still on the counter, reminding him that he should check his own wounds too, but that could wait. First Derek. (Like always.) He helped him to the tap, making some lukewarm water run from it.

"Try to wash it out as much as possible. I know you used mountain ash too. I felt you messing with the line," he sighed as he began putting the necessary objects onto the counter. "I'll treat the wounds and help heal them with a potion. I think they will further heal during the balancing. My magic is always keen on helping to heal you," he murmured, waiting for Derek to finish washing his wounds and face.

It was strange for the wolf to navigate without his eyes closed and not see anything, to be surrounded by darkness but it was the best sight he could have since there were no hallucinations and his sleep had been without dreams. Though he suspected that was more because of Stiles' magic than his mind being kind to him. The sound of running water already told him what to do so when he got the go ahead, he inhaled, preparing himself for the pain as he tried his best to dull it through the bond.  
  
There was nothing pleasant about washing the wounds, his legs trembled as he flushed out the ruined sockets, his stomach protesting while he felt lightheaded. Derek kept rushing water in them though until he couldn't anymore, until he felt like he was about to meet up with the ground. Gripping the sink tightly, he breathed a few times before he lifted his head.

"I had to use mountain ash to make sure it wouldn't heal too quickly." It was too late for his sight now.  
  
Stiles led him to sit down on the toilet with its lid closed and he sat down on it without protest so Stiles had easier access. "It's better this way, the hallucinations stopped so don't be sad for me." Jennifer had healed the alpha of all alphas with one touch so he knew it wasn't going to be forever but it had asked a lot out of her so it was something for much later. "I'll always know where you are and I look good with sunglasses."

Stiles' short chuckle to that comment sounded quite hysterical so he abruptly cut himself off. No matter how much Derek tried to dull the pain, Stiles' eyes were red and burning as if he had rubbed chili peppers into them. He washed his hands then sniffed one more time then steeled himself for the sight. Even with the cleaner face it wasn't pretty. Where Derek's gorgeous green eyes used to be, there were only two gaping holes. No eyelids yet. But at least the bleeding seemed to have slowed nearly to a halt.  
  
Stiles had to pull a stool closer to sit down and take a few deep breaths through his mouth as his trembling hands began cleaning and disinfecting Derek as gently as he could. Soon he pressed his lips into a thin line and he stayed silent because he was afraid if he opened his mouth, he'd rattle apart at the seams. He watched helplessly as the portion of his magic which he couldn't contain skidded down along his fingers and seeped into Derek's skin around and in the empty sockets. He didn't try to stop it only because he knew and saw that the magic was helping him heal.  
  
He didn't say a thing for a good five minutes until he finished the cleaning. By then he managed to pull himself together more or less and the bleeding completely stopped too, so that was a plus.

"I'll bandage them now. It should be fine. The bleeding has stopped. My magic was already helping you heal. Drink this potion. It'll help as well," he took Derek's now clean hand and put a small glass bottle in it. "It's bitter, but works wonders on wounds," he said with some sort of dark amusement in his voice as he glimpsed down on his own bandages.  
  
He waited only until Derek drank the potion then finished putting a bandage over his eyes and head. "Just give me a sec and we can get out of here," he mumbled and started peeling off his own bandages to make a quick work of disinfecting and wrapping his arm up again. Only one of the wounds bled a bit earlier so that was good. The new layer of healing balm would probably solve that problem too.

"You should take some of my healing when we're balancing, you're in pain." Derek hesitated to comment on the emotions he tasted coming from the human, because Stiles wasn't the only one barely holding it together. It wasn't fair to him to have to go through this with only the werewolf as company and two druids as dubious back up. They had been abandoned a long time ago, but in moments like these that became painfully obvious. There were a few of the parents left, taking care of Beth while they constantly ran from one emergency to the next but there was nobody there to help Stiles hold it together, only a human and a crazed werewolf. It made him sad to realize, it made him want to be better so he could give Stiles all he deserved, to be cherished and never to feel this alone again.  
  
Instead he was useless, added stress and pain to their lives together, the uncertainty of a future, a bleak promise of love. It had been a long time since he had felt like this, so utterly like a failure, a bother. And Derek knew that the fact Lucifer himself had shown interest in him, that he knew angels by name, it meant something right? Yet it hadn't gotten him nothing but trouble. In the end, he had been, once again, used because he had been there.  
  
"You're... suffering. And I keep making it worse. But I'm selfish and I don't want to lose you. I don't want you to feel another loss. I'm sorry... I'm trying for you." Trying wasn't enough when Derek was failing though, it was only a disappointment.  
  
Derek touched the bandage, knowing it was probably going to be healed by tomorrow but he had no idea what the eyes were going to look like, the mountain ash had burned away everything. He was going to miss books, reading was hard with the alpha eyes and he spoke many languages but braille wasn't one of them.

A bitter smile pulled at Stiles' lips as he threw out the bloody gauze and cotton pads into the trash can under the counter and quickly packed away some things before washing his hands again. "I'll be fine. I always am, after a while," he shrugged. Not that Derek would see that. Or the sadness in his eyes. Or anything at all... "And you'll never lose me," Stiles walked back to him and put a hand on a broad shoulder. He had noticed that since the hallucinations stopped, he was able to touch Derek easier and his mind was clearer somewhat. He just hoped these were going to stay like this. Or get more frequent.  
  
"I know you're sorry and you're not a burden to me. You're my mate and I love you. I'll do everything in my might and then some more to help on you. Even if I have weak moments. I can promise you that. And as flattering as it sounds that you're trying for me, please, try it for both of us. But most importantly for yourself. You are whole now. It had its price and is taking a toll on both of us, but we have to stay strong. We have to get through this so we can go back to our daughter and really start our life together. I want that. I want to do everything we planned. Making a real home for us, for our life together as a real family. Those plans and our love are what keep me going. As Morrell once quoted Churchill to me years ago... 'If you're going through hell, keep going.' I found her advice quite useful. Maybe you should try to take it too," the pale man said then gently squeezed Derek's shoulder.  
  
"Come, let's do the balancing on the bed. This time I want to cuddle you all along," he whispered, but his voice sounded a bit calmer and firmer than before. It seemed reminding himself of those dreams was still working and once the magic will be more in balance again, that was going to help find his own equilibrium as well.  
  
He took Derek's hand and put it on his shoulder to guide him out of the bathroom and to the bed. "Do you still need your corner or is it okay like this too?" he asked, hesitating for a moment if he should get their pillows and cover from the floor or not. If Derek still needed to hide away, maybe he could suggest pushing the bed into said corner.

Derek had been in Hell for three decades and he had kept going. To be honest, he was tired, exhausted to keep going. Every day was this struggle. Pain became normal, blood part of his life so much that at times it was all he could smell. Now there were two reasons not to give up, one of them was right here and the other was at the Stilinski house so he wasn't going to just stop fighting but wasn't he allowed some days of not having to fight? How long had he told himself that it was going to get better, that he only had to hold on a little while longer and it would be different? It never was though, it never ended and the loft was going to be an unfinished building forever until it was a forgotten relic.  
  
"I've went through Hell, for over fifty years. Marin doesn't know what she's talking about." Derek's soul was an old man’s and age had gotten even more complicated because of it. The fact was, he was done with everything at the moment, the thought of fighting even longer, even only a day made him feel desperate. Couldn’t everything just stop for a while? Couldn't they have like a month together where nothing mattered but them spending time together without having to fear for their lives? If he had eyes, they would be burning with unshed tears.  
  
He was just so tired.  
  
Quietly the wolf let Stiles manhandle him over to where he assumed the bed was and honestly, now that he couldn't see, everything felt even more open, a wall would remind him where he was. "We can push the bed in the corner. I... still need walls." After the ritual he wanted to sleep, sleep and forget and have the days pass without remembering. But there were potions to drink and responsibilities and everything else. Sleep was selfish, sleep was not what Stiles needed of him.

"It's okay, I was thinking of pushing the bed there too," Stiles said hoarsely. He could feel Derek's desperation and tiredness as his own. Because he felt like that too, but at least one of them had to keep pushing forward, to carry the other. Even if hope was so elusive and it would be so much easier to give into the darkness.  
  
Life was unfair, a constant hard struggle. Stiles had learned that early on in his life. He had to grow up quickly to take care of his dad. Then to take care of a pack of misfits. Now he had to take care of Derek. But he had told him the truth. Derek wasn't a burden for him. None of the people he had to take care of felt like that to him along the way. Ever. Maybe it was the way his unusual brain or personality was wired. Maybe it was the Spark in him all along. Or the combination of both. He couldn't tell, but it was just how he was. And if his mate needed carrying, Stiles was going to do that too. Even if he breaks a little bit more. Even if he is tired and exhausted to the bone as well.  
  
So that's why Stiles didn't comment on Derek dismissing the advice or how the wolf felt so close to giving up all together. He'll do the heavy lifting. He can do it. Void is wrong. He _is_ strong. He has to.  
  
Stiles picked up the pillows and cover and tossed them on the bed before moving one of the night stands out of the way. "Okay, I'll need some muscle power help," he said, not detailing that he didn't want the wounds on his arm to re-open from the strain. "Just help me push it forward," he said after placing Derek's hands on the edge of the bed.  
  
Luckily they didn't have to push it far so they were done in no time. Stiles made the bed for them and helped Derek lay down before he too did the same, nuzzling to the wolf's warm side. He let that familiar warmth seep into him for a moment before lifting his good hand with the rune on it and aligned it with Derek's. Both runes immediately started burning and glowing, power humming between them.  
  
"Okay, here we go. Just remember that it's me and my magic. We won't harm you. I promise."

They were both exhausted, done with the day which had only started, done with the week, the month and the year. It was good to feel it though, it reminded Derek that he couldn't give up, he couldn't put even more strain on Stiles. He was barely a man, too young for any of this so Derek needed to stop feeling sorry for himself and push on. It was what he was good at, that's what he always did. What he hated because it was a very lonely and rough existence and exactly why Stiles shouldn't have to go through that either. It wasn't Stiles' job to protect him, it was Derek's job.  
  
So when their arms aligned and their runes pressed together, he hoped he had stopped being such a depressing wolf so he wouldn't harm Stiles even more than he already had. Derek had been a terrible mate since they have started this, Stiles was just too selfless to realize it.  
  
This was okay, this was safe, this was for Stiles, he needed this, he needed Derek to keep himself together. That's what he kept repeating to himself while the felt the magic trickle up to his arm, what he kept repeating when his breathing picked up and his heartbeat was hammering away in his chest. Derek couldn't be a whimpering broken mess, this was for Stiles, he had to keep his cool. The scent was okay, it was only magic, it wasn't Lucifer, it was only Stiles. He was scared though, so scared that he barely dared to breathe while he did his best to be strong for his mate.  
  
The hand not being held clutched at the bedding as he let the magic invade because he had to. They had to. Stiles had suffered enough because of him. **_Stop being such an idiot._**

Weakling, letting a human carry all his baggage like that. Failure. As always.

"Shhh... it's okay, Derek. It's only me. I've got you. Focus on me," Stiles whispered, burying his head into the warm neck to let the familiar scent surround him. His bandaged up arm was gently and rhythmically caressing Derek's chest in an attempt to ground and calm him while the magic was flowing back and forth between them. He put extra effort into keeping that flow steady, not to overwhelm Derek. His heart was breaking for his wolf because Stiles could feel Derek's struggle. He remembered their previous magic transfers. Some were overwhelming, nearly too much, but basically a positive experience for both of them – even with Derek getting high as a kite at times. And now... now Stiles could feel the overwhelming fear, the discomfort during the process that shouldn't make Derek feel like that. Because Stiles was magic. And with that in mind, it was as if Derek feared his mate himself. Which was... It _hurt_.  
  
But instead of letting that feeling overtake Stiles, the druid kept caressing Derek's chest and thought of all the warm moments they had spent together. "Focus on my love for you. Let it flow into you," he murmured as he closed his burning eyes and inhaled Derek deeper. Their bonds were wide open. Maybe a little bit dimmer than usual, but still strong and the ritual was a perfect opportunity for Stiles to let his love slowly trickle through their connection along with a few happy memories.  
  
Like making out on the backseat of the Camaro. Giving Beth her first puppy, Fenrir on Christmas day. The little girl falling asleep between them on the bed while they were watching something on Netflix. The way Derek looked at him over her head before they exchanged a soft and warm kiss. How Derek came up behind him while he was cooking dinner by the stove and scented his neck, making Stiles pull his shoulders up and giggle since the stubble tickled him. Small, but for Stiles meaningful memories. Times when he felt so in love with Derek. And the warmth of that love was flowing through their bonds in an attempt to help Derek. To remind him that not everything was so dark. That the sparks will always be there to guide them.

Maybe Derek had hoped the magic transfer would be like the last times: overwhelming, taking away anything he should be aware of but it was a balancing and there wasn't too much magic yet so it was different. Maybe the magic sensed the hesitance Derek had to receive it, the deep-rooted fear he felt not exactly for the magic since Lucifer hadn't used that but the scent it had, the feeling of heat much like fire. And fire? That was something he couldn't even think about without losing the ability to breathe. It wasn't Stiles the werewolf feared, it was the fact he had no control over anything.  
  
The memories being fed to him, the emotions bleeding into him, of course they sparked memories of his own because he had been in those moments as well, he had been part of them even though he couldn't cling to them the way Stiles could. Other memories overshadowed the good ones, like Elizabeth dead, Stiles dead. Everybody gone, his throat raw from screaming in pain, echoing around him and always unanswered. He didn't want those to get to Stiles so Derek clutched at what Stiles offered him instead as if they were his own and maybe that wasn't the right way to go about it but it was better than the alternative.  
  
Derek focused on Stiles' breathing, on his scent, on his ever-present and loud heartbeat, the salt of his tears as he remembered for them both. It eased the way for the magic to settle within him, tentatively spreading along his body as if it was exploring a new home.  
  
It was good, it made Derek feel better and the fear eased up, slowed the panicked heartbeat. It wasn't the dark Derek feared though, it was at least familiar. It was the light which showed all the broken parts and reminded him of everything. Not Stiles though, Stiles was stupid and annoying and too smart and never ever stopped talking or pushing and Derek hated the way the human knew how to read him so perfectly as much as he loved him for it. Stiles was home so Derek clutched at that little lifeline, his life depended on it.

The stroking on Derek's chest slowed then stopped in favor of Stiles' hand clutching tightly at another shirt of his he had lent to his mate to feel safer and have more of his scent on him. He ignored the dull stabs of pain in his bandaged up arm, which in turn reminded him that he was supposed to borrow some of Derek's healing while he could. Before the wolf was going to be weakened for his own good and healing. Stiles was hesitant about the borrowing, but when he finally felt Derek's fear and panic ebb down and the magic was close to balancing out, he sighed a small hot and relieved breath into Derek's neck which was a bit damp from Stiles' tears.  
  
With a sniffle or two, he concentrated on finding a healing thread and as gently as he could, he tugged on it so its force could work on the scabbed over slashes, making his skin warm up and tingle.  
  
"I need you just as much, Derek. I cannot lose you too..." he whispered, pressing his eyes tighter together. "Not when you're finally mine. Not ever. I love you. I need you," Stiles repeated barely audible, holding onto his mate nearly desperately.  
  
He cannot do this without Derek. Their lives and emotions were too entwined. He cannot live without Derek anymore. He couldn't bond himself to anyone else but this stubborn silent wolf. He didn't need or want anyone else. Just Derek. _Always Derek_. After all... he was the love of his life, as it turned out. Without him... it would only be darkness.

"I know, I know. I don't want you to lose me. I don't want to put you through more of that kind of pain. I promise I won't take my life no matter how bad it gets." It was insane how much Derek was depending on Stiles so quickly after their first kiss. Obviously Stiles already had been important to him, he had been his anchor for years because he had been the one person to count on. The one person to come save Derek no matter how much of an ass he had been, the one to read Derek or to pester him long enough to know how to read him. The one who bossed him into doing better, the one Derek had trusted despite not trusting anyone.  
  
So he had to trust him now, when all that really made sense was the human himself, when everything was crumbling around him. It was hard though, his emotions were all over the place, rapidly switching as much as the sanity of his mind did, probably something that was part of going insane.  
  
Inhaling deeply, he knew tomorrow wouldn't be like today, taking his eyes was only to keep the current hallucinations at bay, and the potions were going to keep him from doing harm to others since he was dangerous. But for now, right at this very moment, there was some peace.

"I don't remember it all, and nothing makes sense and I know tomorrow or even later today I will not be as clear-headed as I am now but I'm sure that I love you." It was the one thing he could give his mate, the one thing to keep some kind of light in the darkness for Stiles. Something to make all of this misery worth it in the long haul.

That promise of not taking his own life and Derek's last words were what really mattered to Stiles. He had to cling to those to be able to get through this. To stop himself from breaking down. As much as he was Derek's anchor, Derek was his. He took strength from this man – who was the strongest one he's ever known. Because no matter what life threw at Derek Hale, he always found a way to stand up and keep going. Stiles admired that in him. He was similar. They were kindred spirits in this regard. Maybe it was one of the reasons why they ended up as a bonded pair. They went through so many things individually and together too that there was a deeper understanding between them, which probably no one else could comprehend.  
  
The slender fingers tightened around the shirt again and this time there was no pain in his forearm. The healing finished, the magic balanced out, so he let go of the healing thread and began closing their connection. He just hoped that his love for Derek would linger in the wolf for a while to give him as much comfort as Stiles' presence.  
  
"Good. I'll need to hear and feel that so keep that in mind, Sourwolf," he kissed into Derek's neck, letting his lips linger on the steadily throbbing pulse point. It was an instinctual gesture that often managed to calm wolves. "And it's okay. We'll eventually get through this. We'll help your mind's healing. We always find a way. I promise. You're not alone in this, Derek. You'll never be alone again," he finally lifted his head and just when the connection closed and the burning in their runes ebbed down, he pressed a soft kiss against his love's lips.  
  
Stiles didn't even notice that he didn't have to constantly chant during the balancing.

Never being alone anymore was kind of the problem. Loneliness was something Derek was used to and it was in a way comforting not to have anybody depend on him. At least that way he could make mistakes without ending lives, without being the cause of others getting hurt because of him. That scared him the most, to have a family or a pack and to make himself vulnerable just to lose them. Derek had no idea if he could handle more losses like that. Probably not. And there was much to lose right now, mate and daughter. If it had been only his own life, well that was fine but it would kill Stiles as well and leave his daughter an orphan. It wasn't an option.  
  
Quietly the wolf settled in because Marin hadn't brought the potions yet so there was nothing for them to do but to wait for this moment of clarity to pass, a calm before the storm, a moment to cherish because who knows when they'd get another one. Derek had too little control over anything to know his triggers.  
  
The ruined eyes had stopped hurting during the balancing of the magic, there were lashes to brush against the bandages, there were eyelids to move eyeballs behind, there were actual eyeballs again. It was fast, too fast maybe. Though if his eyesight had been restored, they could try to see if bandaging like this would work as well on the hallucinations. It reminded him that yes, he should have thought of that before, he should have discussed what he was going to do with Stiles to see if there was another way to blind him. He was a genuine idiot.  
  
"We should sleep some more." Anything to make the time move faster, anything to not have to think and hopefully dream.

Stiles thought that the balancing would give him some energy, but it seemed, he was too exhausted both physically and mentally so he didn't protest against some more sleep. He could tell that Derek shared his opinion at the moment that sleeping would be a good escape from the situation they were struggling with and had to find a solution to. Plus, they both were indeed exhausted from everything going on and also from last night. Not to mention that it was probably even more severe in Derek's case with the mental strain that has been put on him since the return of his soul.  
  
The younger man knew that it wasn't going to be easy. He prepared as much as he could, but this was hard even to his standards. And he wanted to enjoy the clear moments with his mate a little while longer, not knowing when that was going to happen again since he and the other two druids were planning on subduing Derek in order to let him heal. His mind drifted towards those plans, trying to map out the possibilities, but he found his swollen eyelids slowly close while he was resting his head over Derek's heart again. The steady thumping lulled him closer to sleep despite the worries rooted deep in his heart.  
  
He refused to feel hurt from Derek responding only with the suggestion of more sleep, because he understood why he said that. He knew how hard it was for his mate to stay sane. He couldn't blame him for wanting to have some more of the blissful dreamless sleep. Or at least Stiles hoped it was going to be like that for Derek, because now he didn't use his powers on him.  
  
The balance was back, the constant pressure caused by the building up magic gone. He was going to be able to hold the magic on his own for a while – unless there was a surge on the horizon. He really hoped that wasn't the case because then he was going to be screwed. And not in the good way...


	2. 11: Can't Go Back - Part 2

**11: Can’t Go Back – Part 2**

"Obviously he's completely out of his mind."  
  
"You underestimate Derek's urge for survival, Marin. He's still in there somewhere."  
  
"He destroyed his own eyes."  
  
Deaton sighed at that as he shone a penlight into the wrecked eyes, not finding anything that would suggest the sight would be restored. Not something he was going to tell Stiles who was watching them too quietly. Instead he wrapped the bandages back over them after applying healing salve, tucking the wolf's sheet back up. Derek was out cold thanks to all the potions the druids had made him drink. He'd be sleepy and complacent for as long as they made him ingest the potions. It was going to give them the time they needed. Which was a little longer with Stiles having done the balancing but it was not long by far.

"He took out his sight to protect Stiles from being attacked further due to hallucinations. It was rash and certainly not the best of options but Derek isn't known to think before acting when emotions run high." He turned his attention to Stiles.  
  
"You can remove the bandages tonight. I've pulled out all the remaining ash." With the wolfsbane in the potions, it wasn't very likely more healing was going to happen but it wasn't mentioned, it would heal as much as it was supposed to heal. "The fact that Derek was able to touch the mountain ash with his claws is promising though, the bond between the two of you is settling, giving him strength."  
  
There was a pointed look to the female in the room, obviously there had been a discussion long before the two druid siblings arrived at the loft. At least Marin hadn't mentioned putting the Hale down anymore. She had learned her lesson, or had been reprimanded enough to remain silent about it. "We have found a way to slow Derek's decline. It’s powerful magic though, it'll require much out of the three of us."  
  
"What Alan means is that we don't have a cure for the damage Lucifer did. The mind is far too complicated to heal. But... there is a ritual to create a wall within the mind to keep the insanity at bay. Allow him time to work through the trauma. But it will not hold up forever."  
  
"And we need time to gather all the ingredients we need. You can't balance the magic with him under the influence of the potions, his healing isn't strong enough for it."

"I know that. But I'll be able to hold the Spark long enough to do the ritual. I'm in, by the way," Stiles finally said after he stopped rubbing his lips and chin in silence. He watched every move the two druids made around his mate, but didn't say anything so far aside from thanking them for coming and helping. He also wasn't going to apologize to Morrell for his outburst. Killing Derek was never going to be an option for him. He made sure she'd understand that.  
  
"I don't care how much magic I'll have to put in from my part. I'll do it for him," he said on a deadly serious tone with a matching expression. "How much time do you need for collecting the ingredients?"  
  
The siblings looked at each other for a moment, obviously a kind of silent communication going on between them before Deaton looked back at him. "A couple of days. The ritual is complicated with rare ingredients, which means that we'll have to go out of town to get what we need from other places," he said. As usual, not really giving away anything. "Gathering everything we need is the easier part, though."  
  
"What do you mean?" Stiles raised a brow questioningly.  
  
"Not many tried or succeeded with this spell," Marin answered to which her brother nodded.  
  
"But we believe that with the help of a Spark, we will," he sent another pointed look at the woman. "There's a lot of potential there."  
  
"I don't care if you look at me like a specimen of a rare species. I just want to help on Derek. He wants to get better and is fighting it. He'll never stop fighting it. And I'll do everything necessary to help him succeed," Stiles stated firmly.

Deaton heaved a sigh because there was still the chance of it not working, no matter how much they all wanted this to work. And they couldn't give him the potions forever either, some ingredients were going to be damaging on the long run, nor would it be much of a life. Maybe better than the insanity lurking in that stubborn head of the Hale but either one might not be choices Derek would want for himself.  
  
"Try to talk to Derek about what he'd want if it doesn't work, and I know you don't want to think about it but you can't make that choice for him, not even as his mate or emissary." Deaton wasn't going to make it either, it was his job to remain impartial, to look at the greater good.  
Stiles knew Deaton was right. He couldn't make this choice for Derek, even if he wanted. It didn't matter just how much their lives were entwined, what remained for the wolf was Derek's. So as Stiles ran a nervous hand through his messy hair, he finally nodded in agreement to that. He'll have to talk to Derek about this when his pair was going to be conscious, he knew.  
  
"There is also that option to save your own life."  
  
"Marin, no. It's not an option here. Stiles made it clear that his destiny is with Derek and that is his choice. They are bound, for better and for worse." His attention went to the Spark. "Call me if you feel the magic is too much, we will do our best to hurry."

Marin's comment made Stiles freeze, but this time Stiles' control over his emotions and magic was better. He wasn't going to lash out at the woman. "What does she mean?"  
  
A pained expression appeared on Deaton's face, but Stiles didn't back off. Though it seemed it was the vet's sister who got bored from the silence that fell on them.  
  
"I meant severing your bonds and tying you to another alpha to keep you and the Spark alive," she said without an ounce of fear in her emotionless dark-brown eyes.  
  
"Absolutely not!!" Stiles slightly raised his voice and rather tucked his fists into the pockets of his red hoodie, nails digging into his palms to let the slight pain keep him grounded. It was her second idea that he had found outrageous, even if a part of him understood her perspective. She didn't see him and Derek as people, even if she might give useful advice. They were more like vessels for some unique energy and carried just as much potential as danger. If they grow into their powers, they might be nearly invincible, but if not...  
  
"Deaton is right. If he dies, I die too. I'll never be another alpha's. That's _my_ decision," he frowned seriously, slight tremors running up on his arms, but nearly no magic was swirling around him. Only the amber glowed faintly in his irises. "For better or worse," he nodded towards Deaton in agreement again.

"So we will make sure that won't happen," Deaton decided, before his sister could say more about the loss of potential if Stiles were to die. Sometimes powerful sparks such as Stiles weren't meant to be. His mother certainly didn't despite the potential there.  
  
"Of course," Marin answered, even though her tone made it clear that she didn't agree with this but in the end it didn't matter. Some situations couldn't be manipulated by druids, no matter how much they wanted to change it. Love was one of those factors. They could fake lust, they could make lovers forget one another but a bond was far more complicated. Deaton knew how it felt to love an alpha, how it felt to lose that alpha. Stiles already had too much loss in his young life to be willing to accept this one. The older man steered his sister towards the door.  
  
"Call if you need to, Stiles. The potions are in the kitchen."  
  
The metal door closed behind them with a loud clang, for a moment dragging the loft into a deafening silence which only lasted for a few minutes.

***

"I think I need a new therapist, mine wants me dead." Groaning, Derek rolled onto his side because the potion was not making him feel at his best, head too fuzzy to focus on anything for long. A headache made itself known, pounding away in his skull which could mean that he wasn't going to be lucid for much longer. At least he had napped without nightmares, which couldn't have been said for earlier. Waking up in cold sweat, tears soaked into the bandages, heart hammering away with a scream lodged in his throat. Stiles hadn't forced him to talk about it and Derek hadn't offered up any information either.

Stiles was just staring at the door once it banged shut, the words of the druid siblings rattling in his mind. He was so lost in them that Derek's voice nearly startled him. Turning around, he walked to the bed and poured a glass of water for his mate then sat down on the edge and offered the glass to him, taking a hand to put it around it so Derek knew what Stiles wanted him to do.  
  
"Yeah... that might be a good idea. I want to drown her in this glass of water, to be honest. She has a talent to go on my nerves with her suggestions..." he huffed and gently stroked Derek's shoulder. "How are you feeling?" he asked on a softer tone. He could dully feel the headache through the bond, but knew it wasn't his. "You should also finally eat something. You haven't eaten since before the soul ritual..." the younger man said with some worry in his voice. Truth be told, he haven't eaten much since then either. Just some sandwiches and energy drinks he could force and keep down. He needed the energy to be able to stand guard over his mate.  
  
"How much did you hear from our conversation?" Stiles asked after a pause. He needed to know. Not to decide how much to tell Derek, but from where to tell everything to him. Because he wasn't going to keep secrets from his mate. Derek had the right to know their options and Deaton's words were ringing in his ears too. Derek had the right to decide his fate in case their attempt to guard his mind isn't going to work. Even if his decision was going to be something Stiles might not like and was going to do everything in his might to prevent.

There was a flinch when his hand had been grabbed, not expecting the touch nor the coldness of the glass when his fingers touched it. The smell was bland, fresh so it was only water which Derek was willing to try even though he hadn't asked for it. "I'm not hungry." The soul ritual hadn't been that long ago, had it? A day or two, so there was no immediate need for food to prevent his body from shutting down. There was only one human here who needed to eat to keep up his strength and it wasn't Derek. "You should eat," he shot back, looking at where he guessed Stiles was out of pure habit.  
  
"Enough to know there's a ritual to help me but the chances of succeeding are small." Laughter bubbled up because it seemed he was doomed to be insane and the sad little cackle it ended in made it clear that he was clearheaded sure but unhinged, ready to snap. "I'm not going to take the potions for long, it'll kill me and death isn't an option when it kills you. And I'm not going to burden you with my care when I'm dangerous." But he had no idea what the right choice was in this. Eichen house probably. It was a safe environment for a werewolf, they knew how to handle them. It wasn't the friendliest for him but a regular nuthouse wouldn't be equipped for his strength. What else was there, chain him up in the vault, keep him like a rabid pet? The idea of all of that was exhausting, disgusting. Was that what he survived all these years of Hell for?  
  
Derek realized he was scared of all those possibilities, tired of all the suffering. The headache intensified so he drank from the cool water, misjudging where his mouth was at first and the sip only made him cough. Useless! Weak and useless and insane. He didn't want to anymore, he wanted to die and sleep and be done with everything if a life in chains was all there was left. Not that he'd would, Stiles needed him.  
  
"Keep me in a coma if there's no way, there's enough money for what you'd need. Place me in the facility Peter had been in, long term care facility. You can still balance your magic, we won't die. If it comes to it, then I want to do that." Yeah, that thought was comforting but also sobering. It was a good thing he had gotten all of his affairs in order because it wasn't like he was considered sane of mind to make decisions. "I gave you my power of attorney, should decisions need to be made and I can't make them, as well as Beth's guardian. And access to all my financials. There's a vault in South America with some money but most of it is all legal and documented. I have bank accounts and savings and own properties. There's a list you can access should you need to sell for money." He frantically tried to think of more what needed to be said and hissed at the side.  
  
"Shut up, I can't think with you talking so much."

Stiles was listening to Derek in silence, taking the mostly empty glass of water away just to slide the wolf's hand back in both of his. He could feel most of it through the open bonds and it made his heart sink even lower than it was. He hummed or grunted in disapproval a few times, but no words came out of him as he was just sitting there, staring at their linked hands.  
  
What Derek was saying was mostly all reasonable – except for his last comment, of course, which indicated that he was hearing other voices. Even before the ritual Derek had tried to think of everything and it just fully dawned on Stiles now.  
  
As he was sitting there, silent tears were running down on his face again. It seemed there was no end of them nowadays. He didn't want to cry, to be weak, but he couldn't stop them. His body wasn't obeying to him. Or his bleeding heart, which was aching so badly because his mate was in so much pain and turmoil and fear and self-hatred. It was just too much. It all was too much.  
  
Still, Stiles took a deep shuddering breath and sniffed twice before clearing his throat and composing himself as much as he could.  
  
"Okay. If that's your decision," he inhaled sharply again and paused for a few moments, his voice coming out steadier than he thought it would. "But we have to believe that the spell will work. It'll create a barrier from the insanity. Some of it will leak through, but in a mostly manageable way. Like a... dam in your head. Water seeping through, but in a way that isn't going to be as overwhelming as it is now... We need to believe that it'll work, Derek. It has to. I can't lose you like that. Even if you stay alive. It's not a life you deserve. You deserve so much more. Happiness, family and love. Fuck..."  
  
Stiles raised one of his arms to hide his teary face in the crook of it, his other hand squeezing Derek's. He wanted to shout, to scream, to curse Lucifer, Hell, the whole world and the Universe for the undeserved suffering they had to go through. But he didn't. He locked it all up, his whole body shaking from it as he choked on a breath and an unhinged chuckle.  
  
They couldn't break. They had to hang onto that bitch hope for dear life.

It wasn't much of a decision, it wasn't even a good one considering Derek'd be stuck sleeping forever until his mate would die but at least Stiles wouldn't have to see another loved one go insane, or slowly deteriorate to die. Derek still thought that the human was getting the short end of the stick here: raising a child which wasn't his, an insane mate in a coma, bonded to a husk of a man so at least his magic wouldn't be killing him. It wasn't much of a life for either one of them but he knew from experience that death wasn't kinder either. Derek would go straight to Purgatory, where all supernatural beings went, stuck to fight forever. Stuck to die over and over. But it wasn't Hell so there was that. Everything would be better than Hell.  
  
"It's not a life you deserve, Stiles. None of this is. I deserve it. Not you." Derek fully believed that, because he had fought to have a better life since he was sixteen and it didn't seem like it would be happening. It was fine, it wasn't like he had expected anything else. There had always been others to fight for, to keep going for them and not for Derek. The pack and friends always a good reason to get up every day, not give up. And Stiles, being in this much pain... that hurt him more than all the years in Hell ever could.  
  
That was what he had caused, a broken human boy, too young to know such sorrow and none of it was fair. Derek could smell the salty tears, the way the body shook with suppressed emotions as he was attempting to keep himself together. They were such a mess together that he wondered if there would be happiness and family for them ever. Derek destroyed all around him, wanting a child and a mate had been a selfish need and they were paying the price.  
  
"I'm already gone. At least I could give you something so you can go on with your life. You'll be good for her, you won't abandon her like her parents did."

"That's such a big bullshit right there. You don't deserve this either and _we will_ raise Beth _together_!" Stiles snapped once he lowered his arm and squeezed Derek's hand. The ritual _had to_ work. He cannot do this alone. At least he had to believe firmly that the spell will work. Otherwise he was going to break too. Which he couldn't allow. _He had to believe._  
  
And it was all that was left for him because he felt it now that he cannot really reason with a half-insane mate. Derek was still stubborn and perhaps too much delusional to accept what he was saying. So Stiles put all his hope and belief in this new mantra.  
  
 _The ritual has to work._  
  
Otherwise all was lost for both of them.  
  
"You should rest some more. I'll make something to eat for both of us for later." He was also going to clean Derek up with some wet towels once Derek was knocked out by the potions again. Plus study the book Morrell had given to Stiles about non-verbal werewolf communication. He wasn't going to waste any time while they had to wait for the druids' return. Wallowing in self-pity and feeling sorry for them wasn't Stiles' style. He had to feel useful or at least do something useful when he couldn't do anything else.

As much as Stiles attempted to hide it, Derek could hear the disappointment in the gentle voice as it urged him to rest. The human didn't think he had any hope in him for the ritual to work, wasn't counting on him to help in any way. And maybe that was the right thing to do, he had been pretty useless and letting it all fall on Stiles. Which was only adding to the boy's stress. No, not boy, Stiles was a fully grown man now and the Hale was partially responsible for everything going wrong in his life.  
  
 _You’re only making it worse for him_ , Laura told him with disapproval in her tone. She never shut up, no matter how often he had told her to. Probably because right after that he'd apologize because he feared if she would shut up, he'd never hear her voice again.  
  
"I know," Derek hissed at her, swallowing the growl to tell her to shut up. And glaring at a ghost was incredibly hard to do with bandages wrapped around his head. Reaching up to touch them, he realized his face felt dirty and he was starting to smell. How many days had it been? Derek had no idea and there was no way to reach the bathroom this time with how weak the potions made him feel. Speaking of which, there were no urgent bodily functions and he realized, with a flare of shame, that his mate must have been taking care of that as well. Oh god, how often had he soiled himself?  
  
Laura was laughing at him, of course she would. "We can try the bathroom, I smell and I should... try the toilet." The last part was muttered by the wolf. "We can remove the bandages too, it all healed."

Stiles didn't even raise a brow from Derek's hiss. It sounded like he wasn't talking to him this time either. It was something Stiles was starting to get used to. Which was sad in itself, but he didn't comment on it, just nodded, forgetting for a second that Derek wouldn't see it. He wouldn't see anything for a long while. At least the hallucinations seemed to have stopped for good. Which was some progress in a way.  
  
Instead, the young man tried to focus on Derek's willingness to go to the bathroom and maybe clean up too. "That's a good idea," Stiles said with more life in his voice than before. "Come, let me help you up. Your mind might be more or less clear from the potions but their effect can linger in your body," he explained and gently grabbed Derek's arm to lead it around his shoulders and help him up. His other arm went around the bigger body to balance and hold it up in case the wolf's legs would buckle under him.  
  
It was a slow walk, but they made it to the bathroom in a minute or two and Stiles helped Derek to the toilet. To give him some privacy, he announced that he was going to change the bed sheets to keep himself busy. And he did so with mechanical movements, for a change his mind void of the usual cluttering of thoughts. His own arm was fully functional now too and without a bandage. The balancing and Derek's healing power did the trick and his skin was smooth and without scarring. Which was at least one thing less Derek had to worry or beat himself up about.  
  
He returned to the bathroom just when Derek was done and already steadying himself by the sink, hands wet from probably washing his hands previously.  
  
"Alright, let's see how your eyes are doing. Deaton had said that tonight we can take the bandages off, but it's already nearing evening, so I guess we can do it now too," he said and gently reached up to start peeling off the bandage. Stiles already knew what to expect. Fully restored eyelids and lashes over the previously missing eyeballs and blank white, nearly grey-ish irises. As if there was scarring over them or some milky substance. It wasn't scary, just unusual. Damn, how he missed that gorgeous green...  
  


  
_[Just Jim edit](https://jimtremor.tumblr.com/tagged/just-jim) _

"Looking good. The inflammation around the eyes are gone too," Stiles sighed relieved as his fingertips carefully caressed the healed skin in question. "How do they feel to you?"

"Like normal, only... not working," Derek blinked a few times but there wasn't even a changing in the lights, no shadows but he could see where Stiles was, an ember-colored shape in the darkness. Unfortunately he couldn't check to see if the alpha eyes would let him have sight because the potions kept him from changing so he wouldn't attack Stiles again. It was disconcerting that when he reached up to touch his eyes, he didn't see the digits coming and didn't close his eyes on instinct so he ended up poking himself like an idiot. The huff he let out was caught between a laugh and a sigh as he blinked away the tears from the sharp brief sting. At least the tears still worked and there was no scar tissue. "How does it look?"  
  
Derek realized they weren't normal looking with the slight unease he felt coming from Stiles, but they probably didn't look as ruined as Deucalion's eyes did before Jennifer had healed them. Not with all the magic and healing. He picked up on auras but not ghosts anymore, obviously, since Laura's scoff at him for poking his own eyes was close by and he didn't see her. Then again, the Hale hadn't seen her before Hell so it was probable that she wasn't really there.  
  
Gripping the sink tightly to keep from lurching sideways, he knew he felt so off because the potions affected his balance, which had been off already due to the blindness. And Stiles did warn that it was going to weaken his body even though it helped keep the insanity at bay. But there was no complaining, this was safer and better for Stiles, and he should count himself lucky that he was still there. Most didn't survive Lucifer's attention, they'd off themselves within a day.  
  
"I'm getting naked now so you better leave the bathroom." Words again not spoken to Stiles but somebody in the corner who seemed to leave since Derek's head followed until the door. "Ophelia, my reaper. She's lingering like a buzzard but she's nice. Told me that I win over Lucifer if I manage to stay alive." Derek knew how that sounded, he wasn't even sure if his mate believed him. He wasn't even sure himself if she was real or if he was imagining things.

"They look… Where your irises should be... well, it looks white, nearly silvery. Like a bad case of grey cataract," Stiles said, drawing Derek's attention back to him. Once again, he didn't comment on his mate talking to someone else, even if for a brief moment he thought Derek was sending him out of the bathroom before realization hit him. Because it wouldn't make sense. They had seen each other naked enough times for a comment like that to be fired his way.  
  
So yeah... Derek sounded like he was insane indeed, but Stiles wasn't going to judge. He remembered the time the sickness made his mother have delusions. When she thought Stiles wanted to kill him and that's why the ten-year-old boy was staring at her. It was a difficult memory, a suppressed one which had surfaced thanks to the Dread Doctors, and stayed with him ever since.  
  
But it also allowed him to understand Derek's comments better. He wasn't judging, he was just rolling with them. Because he also remembered what Morrell had told him about Derek having some... abilities after his first return from Hell. Maybe he had earned more after he was reunited with the missing part of his soul. He couldn't know yet. Perhaps later he could ask. Now they had a task at hand.  
  
Still, hearing about Derek's 'reaper' shook something deep in Stiles. Even if it wasn't real, even if it was just the mumbling of a half-mad werewolf... Because Stiles had read enough about supernatural creatures – including reapers – to know that if one was nearby and visible to someone, it was a sign of being close to death. And he didn't want Derek to be close to death. Ever.  
  
"So... now that we are... hopefully alone... Do you want a shower or would you be okay to sit in the tub with me so we can minimize the possibility of you falling over like a sack of potatoes and hurting yourself in the process? Because that wouldn't be good. We just patched you up," Stiles said with a tiny spark of teasing in his voice – a sliver of his true self shining through all the sorrow and darkness he felt weighing down on him.

"Tub would be good, because I do feel like a sack of potatoes. If I didn't know any better about them not working on me, I'd say the fortune cookies siblings stuffed me full of muscle relaxants." Or Derek imagined that's how they worked because he had very little experience with human medicine, besides being stitched up when he had been human. That had been an annoyance but the painkillers had been nice. The whole dying part not so much. So if they could limit him getting himself injured, it would be great.  
  
His coordination was off and he knew if he fell, he wouldn't know where the walls were or furniture and he'd blindly reach out for something to grab, making the fall only worse. Kind of how Stiles would fall, flailing and tense, managing to hit parts of himself he shouldn't be able to injure. Adding slippery wet tiles... a blind doped up crazed werewolf and the scenario for injuries was complete. Which was proven when Derek let go of the sink, took a few tentative steps to where he assumed Stiles was because he was behind him, and the moment he whirled around was when the world tilted on its axis and he was left keeling over. It almost went in slow motion, it wasn't a hard fall, his ass cushioned it as he plopped down on it and his face probably showed his surprise at being Stiles-clumsy. "Oh god," he groaned.  
  
As if there had been any dignity left at this point. Derek Hale, alpha and leather wearing buff werewolf, had landed on his ass like a toddler learning to walk. It was just so stupid that he couldn't help but laugh, because everything was so fucked up and they were a mess and he was going to die, or be in a coma forever or insane forever with a wall keeping him from going completely out of his mind. Blind by his own hands, clumsy... He had to laugh, it was better than crying.  
  
"Yeah, bath really seems like a great idea," Derek deadpanned, fumbling around to get up and having no idea how to without toppling over again. "How are you still even alive with your clumsiness?"

The laugh they shared was kinda off, but a much needed little relief for both of them. Stiles relaxed a bit after he realized that Derek was fine and he did look quite comical sitting on his ass so surprised like that.  
  
"Heeey! I used to be much clumsier as a teen because I grew a lot and my coordination was off. It was like I was put into an alien body. Quite a lot like in sci-fi movies. Since then I've got better thanks to the training I went through at the academy and with you. Besides... I think I've mastered clumsiness," he babbled, his chest a bit lighter.  
  
He helped Derek up and led his hands onto the edge of the counter. "Stay right here. No moving. I'll start the bath then help you get undressed. No cheating! I'll know if you move..." he stroked along Derek's hand before moving away and plugging in the bath tub in time with turning the water on. He even went as far as pouring some lavender-scented bath crystals in it, which was a nice way of adding some extra relaxing smells to their bath. God knows, they needed it. Or not, since according to Derek God had retired a long time ago and didn't care.  
  
With a small sigh, Stiles found himself back on his mate's side and he gently guided the wolf to face him. Yeah, the new eyes were something he'll have to get used to, but it wasn't that bad. It made Derek look even more unique than he already was for Stiles.

"Time to get naked," he announced and hesitated only for a moment before his slender fingers slid under Derek's shirt, gently caressing the warm skin there for a few moments. It was selfish, Stiles knew, but he did miss Derek in other ways too. They had enough on their plate without these emotions too. Especially since it's been a long time – before the rut, to be exact.  
  
Lightly shaking his head, knowing that Derek wasn't going to see it, Stiles suppressed another sigh and instead pulled the borrowed shirt over the wolf's head just to drop it on the floor, his fingers going for the sweatpants next as he allowed his eyes to admire the beauty of his mate for a few moments. Because no matter what happened to Derek, Stiles still found him beautiful.

At least one of them had mastered the clumsiness and it wasn't Derek, that was for sure. He had been clinging to the counter until Stiles helped him undress. The mood in the other was sensed, understood even though it wasn't something Derek was ready for. Cuddling up, the touches on his skin, those were ones he was comfortable with because they didn't have the kind of intent which would lead to sex. Stiles seemed to sense that much because the touches remained lingering and didn't turn into more, it made Derek feel relieved. He didn't want to turn his mate down but he also didn't want to force himself into something he wasn't okay with.  
  
He could feel the human's eyes trail over him when the clothes were removed. Nothing had changed bodily except for the runes carved into him. The one on his arm and the one on his chest which had scarred as well. Both marks he'd wear proudly if he was going to be able to get through this all. _No_. When, not if. That's what he was supposed to be thinking or the ritual might not work.  
  
Letting Stiles guide him into the water after he had stepped into the tub as well proved difficult. Derek had to sit on the edge so he'd know how high to swing his legs and not knock into the edge and fall over. And Stiles held him back from actually simply toppling over when moving his legs slowly into the warm water. The heavy scent of lavender hit his nose, while steady hands guided him from the ledge to sink into the water. Derek hadn't even realized his body temperature had been off until the warmth surrounded him and he couldn't hold back a moan at how good it felt. The wolf hadn't felt clean since the soul merging so this was going to help a bit at least.  
  
"Maybe your magic can turn me into a merman and I can stay in here." He wanted to ask how long it took for Stiles to feel clean but he knew the answer to that. It was never going to go away, it would lessen. With time.

Stiles chuckled from that remark after he too got quickly undressed and got into the tub, facing Derek. It was so different from the last time they were in there together. It wasn't romantic, they weren't cuddling after good sex, they were both tired, Derek blind and on the edge of insanity and Stiles feeling lonelier than ever. But he put up a good face to it, like he did many times in the past too.  
  
He was fine. They are going to be fine.  
  
"Well, I don't know any transformation spells yet, but I can look into it if you really want that..." he chuckled low as he dipped a soft sponge under the water and lathered it up with some shower gel. "You'd be a sexy merman, I think. Even sexier than Jason Momoa as Aquaman... and that's a big thing for me to say because he's really dreamy in that role..." he sighed like a teenage boy having a huge crush on said actor, hands gently washing Derek with the sponge.  
  
He took cleaning Derek seriously and was very thorough with every inch of his skin, as if he knew exactly what his mate was thinking about. Besides, this was the most peaceful thing they did ever since Derek's soul was back. Stiles even let his bare hand linger over that rune, just to check if everything was okay. He didn't feel anything wrong, so he relaxed a bit more. It was turning into a habit of his – checking on the second rune he gave to his mate. Maybe a part of him was still dreading the worse, but he knew that the soul ritual was a success. What they were going through now was just the aftermath of it.

"Sexier than Jason… I doubt that," Derek chuckled at the idea because last he checked, Momoa was this giant of a man with muscles as big as the wolf's head. He had seen _Aquaman_ , that was impossible to beat and sure he knew he was good-looking but he wasn't anywhere near Jason's league and he knew that. Plus long hair? Yeah, he couldn't see himself looking good with long hair. The longest he had ever let it get was a little past the tip of his ears. And he remembered he had looked into the mirror and thought to himself that he did look like a Miguel now. Stiles and his stupid cousin Miguel jokes. It did make him blend in when in South America, though.  
  
"To me you are always going to be sexier than Jason. Or anyone else, for that matter," Stiles smirked because he couldn't not comment on those doubting words. Besides, it was true. Derek was his mate for life. He couldn't look at anyone else in the way he looked at Derek.  
  
"It's fine you know... the marks? I don't mind them." Derek felt the way the hand without the sponge lingered at the one on his chest and he knew it had scarred, he had felt the irregularity in his skin. Honestly, he liked them, because he never had been able to keep scars as werewolf, not even the one he gained as human because the moment he had evolved, it all had healed. Scars told a story, his story was erased all the time, his were on the inside so people would forget that just because he healed, it didn't mean it didn't hurt. Most of the time he ignored that himself. "You have my bite, I have your runes."  
  
Surviving this, Lucifer's endless torture, it was worthy of a mark on his body as a reminder when years had passed and the intensity of the insanity maybe had lessened. When he was old and wise and the mind wasn't as sharp, not that it was ever going to be sharp again.

The amber eyes looked down at his wet hand still hovering over the rune and he stroked a fingertip along the scar tissue. "I know you don't mind them. I know you always wore the other with pride... A sign of belonging to me. This one..." he drew out the rune with that finger "should remind you that you're whole again. That you're stronger than you might think. You're still here, still standing, still alive. We both are..." he trailed off and fought off the urge to touch the bite mark on the back of his own neck. The scars he chose to wear. His mark of belonging to Derek. Even if the wolf didn't like that Stiles refused to let it fully heal, he was wearing it with pride too.  
  
Dipping the sponge into the water again, he returned to cleaning his other half, this time on his chest and neck, slowly working himself up towards the by then thick beard and handsome face. Derek seemed to feel more at ease with his touches, which gave a little hope to Stiles.  
  
"I'm going to wash your hair too then I want to hold you in my arms for a while if that's okay with you..." the emissary whispered after a while, hoping that what he was asking for was okay with Derek too.

Honestly, Derek would be fine with anything as long as they'd stay in the warm water for a while. Hair washing would be good, it still had dried blood in it and it felt greasy when he ran his hand through it. It was getting long, easier to maintain though when he couldn't see what he was doing and it wasn't like he was going to get a haircut, it was the last thing he cared about.

"Yeah, I think so, we can try it." Hard to say if he was going to get a reaction to it but it had went fine in bed so, despite their nudity, it shouldn't be a problem. Stiles was associated with safety now that Derek couldn't confuse him with Lucifer.  
  
"I don't mind your nudity, I don't know how I'll react though." He wasn't even sure what memories were real or not, what all happened torture-wise because it was a jumbled mess in his head, the potions blurring it all together.

After Kate and Jennifer, a shower had been needed mornings and evenings, that dirty feeling never going away and it felt similar. Lucifer wouldn't... right? Derek didn't know, he didn't want to find out when it was too late and he had a bad reaction to touches. Derek felt mellow enough right now to try. "I don't like to think... _that_ happened but..." Hell had been about breaking him and with his past, it would be a way to get to him so unfortunately, there was a chance something did happen.  
  
Hopefully it was going to be a forgotten memory, Lucifer wasn't going to remind him, the fallen angel was... who knows where he was hiding but he didn't concern himself with Hell anymore. "Leaning against you will make me feel your heartbeat." It would anchor him, it was a sound he wanted to hear as often as possible, or feel. Thumping against him was soothing, it reminded him they were both alive, both here in the now instead of someplace else. That it wasn't an illusion or hallucination.

"It's okay. I won't do anything just hold you to have you close and to let you feel my heartbeat," Stiles said on a soothing voice. He didn't want to think about Lucifer possibly torturing Derek with rape. Even the possibility made Stiles' empty stomach churn, the bile trying to rise. No, instead he focused on the heartbeat part. It wasn't said out, but he knew it would ground Derek some more. As Stiles had noticed, it was the only thing that really worked on him in the last few days. That's why he was so reluctant to leave the wolf's side – or the loft.  
  
Derek needed stability. Something to hold onto to keep himself sane. And it seemed that Stiles was the only thing that could anchor him. So he was going to be the rock he needed so he wouldn't sink and drown in the horrors below.  
  
"We both know that being close to your mate helps on many levels too. I believe a bit on mental trauma as well," he murmured, starting to carefully wash Derek's hair before lathering it up with the shampoo he usually used and lacked the chemicals that would otherwise sting the sensitive eyes in case some got into it. The human guessed that it didn't matter that Derek was blind now, it'd work the same way. Either way, he worked carefully but with steady moves, commenting before doing anything new just to make sure Derek stayed calm.  
  
Once he finished, he quickly washed up both his own body and hair too then helped Derek turn around so he could lay between Stiles' open legs. The human let his pair set the pace from there, wanting to keep him as comfortable as he could manage. So he waited patiently with his back against the tub's back, hands resting on the edge.

It seemed like a simple thing to do, lean back against the solid chest but it wasn't easy at all. There was a presence lurking behind his exposed, naked back. Clutching at the ledge, Derek took a few deep breaths. It was like that team building exercise you had to do in high school, to fall backwards and trust the other one to catch you. Which he had been great at when younger but no doubt spectacularly would fail at now. Trust hadn't been so easily gained ever since the fire because Derek had the habit of trusting people he shouldn't have and it got people hurt or killed. This was Stiles though, he trusted Stiles. It was the empty space between them he didn't trust.  
  
He wasn't in Hell anymore, it wasn't going to change, it wasn't going to hurt him, Derek told himself as he slid backwards until he felt the strong presence of a rib cage against his slippery back. He had made it. Tentatively the wolf exhaled, letting go of the tightly gripped edge of the tub so his full weight would lean against his mate. And nothing happened.  
  
It felt nice, the heart was thrumming away against his skin, loud in his ears as well as the deep breaths the human was taking, the soft splatter sounds of the water due to Derek's moving. The nakedness didn't trigger, it was okay like this. It took a solid ten minutes for Derek to going from sitting hunched over until he moved to splay against the inviting body but by then he did dare to relax a little. It was progress, it was good progress. Closing his eyes, he could almost imagine them doing this often, relaxing in the bath together out of love, without all these triggers and heartaches. He could imagine liking the naked body like this, for them to make love like this. He wanted the normalcy so much it ached, because they had been close to reaching it.  
  
Stiles tried to stay as relaxed as he could, waiting patiently and trying to send encouragement and safety through their bonds. It seemed to have worked because soon he could feel Derek's back against his chest and it made Stiles' heart beat a bit faster with happiness and relief before it got back to its normal rhythm. Or at least normal to his standards. His heart was going to beat a bit faster and skip a beat here and there because of the medicine he had to take for the rest of his life. But it was something Derek was used to by then.  
  
Once his mate finally relaxed against him, Stiles leaned his face against Derek's head and pressed a soft kiss into his hairline. "You did well, Derek. I'm so proud of you," he whispered on a loving tone, but didn't move his hands from the edges of the tub just yet.  
  
It was a sad affair when Stiles had to compliment him on moving a few inches to lean against him, the thought frustrating even though Derek knew it was something to be commended for because it had been a large step. And was also a frustrating thought to Derek, something so small was big for him. It was going to be a long road to recovery, not like when he had returned from Hell the first time and it had been mostly his body needing healing. The mind had been traumatized sure but not like this.

"When this is all over, when I can... when I'm more like myself... can we... go away for a few weeks? Somewhere where there is snow and a cabin." So they could have what those videos showed, so he could remember it and not see it on a screen. Play with Beth and not be in Beacon Hills and pretend they had a normal life, just for a few weeks.

Derek’s suggestion surprised the druid, but he liked it. "Yes, I think that'd be a great idea. To get away from this place and everything else and be a family again. I miss that too, you know. I only got a taste of it with you and Beth before all the... complications happened with me and you. She deserves more of our time with her. I feel very guilty that we cannot be with her for a while, but I'll check on her, I promise. It's better to keep all this from her. Besides Grandpa No is doing a great job with Melissa's help. She's doing fine. So yeah... a few weeks away from here with the two of you sounds amazing."

The wolf’s fingertips touched the mark on his chest. He hadn't seen the rune, or he had seen it but it hadn't been important at the time. So he didn't know what it looked like precisely, because there were too many runes and he hadn't studied them but he knew the mark would be small, like on his arm. It had healed peculiarly, so he could still feel it, like reading braille.  
  
He did well.  
  
It was like a damn broke through, heat pooling behind his eyes, he didn't cry he told himself but there was no stopping it now that it had started. Mourning what had been, what could have been and had been destroyed because of a broken soul. Lying here in the warm bath, surrounded by the scent of lavender and the sound of the heartbeat that was so Stiles, the Hale curled against the pale body as his own was wrecked with sobs. It was needed, it was a release of everything, a show of complete faith and trust. Derek hadn't cried in thirty years in Hell and now it was like his body needed to expel all of the ugliness through salty tears.

All of Stiles' attention was on his pair and he swallowed hard, feeling some of what Derek was feeling. Still, he didn't stop him or said anything. There was no need for that. Instead he slowly put his arms around his mate, holding him steadily but not too tight. He knew this crying was necessary. Another step towards healing and although his heart was breaking all over for the wolf, he was also a bit relieved that it was finally happening. And that Derek felt comfortable enough with him to let him see like this. It strengthened back their bonds, making perhaps both of them a bit calmer and more balanced.  
  
Stiles pressed a few soft kisses against the crying man's head time after time and even made some reassuring and consoling sounds, but otherwise stayed silent. It wasn't a time for his usual blabbing. It was the time of letting some of the horrors go and showing his support and love to the broken man in his arms. The man he loved more than anything on this world. Whom he wanted to help in any way he could. And this time it was like this.  
  
Stiles didn't know what the following days would bring, if the ritual will work or not. For now he just wanted to be there for his mate and spend as much time with him while his mind was more or less clear... before he had to give him more potions... as much as possible.  
  
"I love you," he finally whispered after long, long minutes, his arms protectively tightening a little bit around Derek.

They stayed in the bath tub until the water ran cold, one curled up, the other holding the wolf tightly and soothingly. Hands running along tanned skin to calm, to give him all the time he needed to get this all out of his system without judging, only with patient love. It eased the tension between them, maybe because Stiles knew Derek put full trust in him with this, that they needed one another badly and it wasn't as one-sided as the human had feared it could be. Because even through the brokenness and the insanity, there was only one thing the wolf was certain of.  
  
"I love you too," Derek whispered in return, as if the echo in the large bathroom would steal away the importance of the words, something only for them to hear and to know. It was special, it had meaning. It belonged to them and them alone for as long as they possibly could keep this.  
  
Eventually the tears dried and Derek felt exhausted, already half out of it while Stiles dried them both off and got them dressed in clean clothes. So by the time he was in bed, he was out like a light, comforted by the clean sheets and the smell of food being made in the kitchen. At some point he was dimly aware of Stiles sitting next to him to eat but he was too out of it, remained out of it when he had to drink the potions again, After that the days had blended together where Derek had moments of clarity, or he was screaming his throat raw when nightmares became too much. The potions had made him sick so much that there had to be a bucket next to the bed as he threw up black bile or whatever food the human attempted to make him eat.  
  
There was a lot of curling up together, banter if the Hale was up for it to help keep Stiles somewhat sane because it was a strain on them both. The insanity was winning, the clear moments became less and less and the Hale's body was not up for tolerating the potions much longer. Stiles had already resorted to taping gloves on Derek's hands so he wouldn't scratch himself open. The back of his neck was an oozing open wound.

It was time for the ritual.


	3. 11: Can't Go Back - Part 3

**11: Can’t Go Back – Part 3  
  
** The last few days took a lot out both of them. Next to trying to keep Derek from hurting himself – because he was too weak from the wolfsbane in the potions to seriously hurt Stiles – the young mage had to deal with the insanity trying to bleed through the bonds and also the accumulating magic which couldn't be balanced with the weak state Derek was in. But as usual when it came to his mate, Stiles didn't care about the strain it was putting on his body. He only cared about holding it back enough not to freak Derek out and to tend to him.  
  
He sent a couple of inquiring texts with some urging to Deaton, who responded briefly and promised to get back soon. _The sooner, the better_ , Stiles thought as he was wiping the black bile from the unconscious Derek's mouth. The veins in Stiles' arms were glowing amber, just like his eyes. He couldn't make that stop anymore. Or the constant headache and the pains in his every muscle and joints, which kept him from any real sleep. He managed only to nap a few times in the last few days and mostly kept himself awake with overdosing on his Adderall and energy drinks his dad had dropped off along with fresh food.  
  
The sheriff knew that things were bad. He only had to look at them, but he didn't pry too much after Stiles reassured him that help was on its way. Instead, he gave some updates about Beth and what was going on at the station and Beacon Hills in general. No supernatural threat for now at least. Besides them, of course. But his dad didn't need to know that. Yet.  
  
After what felt like an eternity, Stiles went downstairs to bring the druid siblings up. He even let Deaton take a closer look at him in the elevator.  
  
"You don't have much time. Will you be able to bear the ritual? You'll need all of your focus and a lot of power," he said, looking kinda worried. "You're burning up."  
  
"Yeah, yeah... Actually, I think I'll be better once I can release some of the magic," he pulled back from the examining hand on his glowing pulse point. "Did you manage to gather and prepare everything?"  
  
"It wasn't easy, but yes," Morrell talked for the first time while the elevator was moving upstairs with them. Stiles caught her weighing glance before her eyes and face closed off. It made his magic pulse as if being aware that it was being sized up. Stiles doubted that it was about attacking him, he had a sense that it was more of her looking into the potential in him. What would happen if he lost control and perhaps how could she benefit from that – or something twisted like that. He wouldn't be surprised. Or maybe it was just his own paranoia fueled by Derek's insanity.  
  
"Good. He's in a pretty bad shape by now from the potions and sanity-wise too. We have to hurry as much as possible," Stiles sighed and leaned against the elevator wall casually, but it was more for support.

Deaton wasn't too sure about the success of the ritual seeing that one of the casters looked ready to keel over and couldn't remain standing without leaning against a wall. The werewolf in bad shape had been expected, he wasn't going to be much use to them which was a good thing seeing as they were going to poke around in his head. As long as the three of them poured everything they had into it, the Hale was only needed to be there to perform the ritual on.

"We've made most of what we need ready. Marin will get it all set up while I get the last of the ingredient." Not Stiles, because the human was going to need to psyche himself up to be fully into the moment.  
  
As soon as they entered the loft, Marin took the bags to unpack all they needed while her brother made a beeline for Derek who was out cold and unresponsive, black bile dribbling out of the corner of his mouth. A large band aid covered the back of his neck and shoulders, smelling of antiseptic. The older druid checked the pulse, frowning. The potions had done their job, yes, but it had caused damage, something which would heal itself within days because the wolfsbane amount hadn't been lethal. The body kept trying to get rid of the toxins, which was a natural defense. The wolf had been scratching himself and looked as miserable as his mate at the moment.  
  
Retrieving a knife, he took the wolf's hand to cut it open and gathered the blood in a bowl. It was the ingredient needed to make sure the spell was used on the right person. "What we need you to do Stiles, when we're ready, is to visualize a wall within the mind. You should be able to see the insanity, the darkness when linked. Marin and I will make certain the wall will let in memories or it won't hold for long or break him eventually if it crumbles." The words had been written down for Stiles to use, it was not so different from the balancing to connect the two, only the magic had to make the wall.  
  
"We've made a countenance to the wolfsbane because Derek needs to be able to heal to handle that amount of magic," Marin informed Stiles, shoving a bottle towards the human.

Stiles was staring at the bleeding hand of his mate (which neither he nor his magic liked) and nodded along to Deaton's instructions. He closed his fingers around the bottle just in time to avoid it slipping through them. That's when he finally looked away from Derek and glimpsed at the blue liquid in the bottle.  
  
He felt frozen to the spot. This was it. The moment of truth. It had to work. He had to believe with everything in him that it was going to work!  
  
 _This is not the time to panic_ , he scolded himself and took a few deep breaths. Derek will be fine. They both will be fine. The wolf's wish about the snowy cabin flashed in front of the young druid's eyes. He could see the three of them playing in the snow. Beth drinking hot chocolate from her sippy cup while sitting on his lap, listening to the story he's reading for her while Derek is cooking in the kitchenette. Derek making love to him after their daughter fell asleep in the other room. Red, healthy eyes staring into his before they kiss...  
  
He wanted that. For both of them. So he had to be strong a little while longer to make that possible.  
  
 _I am mindful and in the moment_ , he closed his eyes, his glowing fingers tightening around the bottle while he was taking some deep breaths. _I am mindful and in the moment._

"Okay... Let's do this..." he finally opened his eyes, the amber glowing stronger in them, just like in his veins. The magic was pulsing with his heartbeat, knowing that it was going to have a new purpose soon, which will get it closer to their wolf. It was strange, but Stiles could 'feel' the longing for Derek in his magic too. As if it was a living, conscious being. Which was still not true, but it reacted to many things. Like... it was clear to Stiles that his dislike for Morrell was echoed in it too.  
  
"Give him the potion," Deaton instructed while the siblings were already using white chalk to draw up a magic circle for the spell. And to protect the outside world in case something went wrong. That tipped Stiles off that they were going to have to move Derek into the middle of it. But first things first, he did as he was instructed and helped the barely conscious wolf drink the blue liquid.  
  
"It'll work fast, but won't wake him up," Marin said, her right hand moving fast on the hardwood floor. "Learn the words, Stiles," she added without looking up.  
  
Just then Stiles noticed a folded paper on the bed and he quickly reached out to study it. The few words weren't complicated, but he knew it was only the key to open things up for the vast amount of magic they will have to use to create that wall.  
  
Once he knew the words by heart, he nodded to Deaton, who wiped his hands off his trousers and walked back to help Stiles take Derek over into the circle. Marin only waited until then to drop the mountain ash circle around them for extra protection.  
  
"Can I hold him while we do this?" Stiles looked at Deaton hopefully. He was very reluctant to let Derek go.  
  
"There are no explicit positions required from the druids during the spell. We all just have to stay within the circle, so yes."  
  
With a small relieved sigh, Stiles nodded and sat behind Derek so he could keep him in a more or less sitting position. Frankly, it was better for him too to sit by then because the magic was boiling up in his veins, impatient to be used.

The wolf didn't stir once, not even when moved from the bed to the floor, not even as the reversal potion cleared all of the wolfsbane in his body, which was quick and instead of throwing up more black bile, it seemingly vanished. One of the things that took so much time, ingredients rare, the potion even more so. It was not something druids had on hand for werewolves. And it wouldn't work with the more volatile and deadly strains of the plant.  
  
If this ritual didn't work, Derek would never regain consciousness. They'd keep him under as he had requested, spell him to keep him from being caught in a nightmare world since even Alan and Marin realized it would be undeserving as a fate. Nothing had been prepared for that scenario though, since it would negatively influence the outcome if they would prepare for it to fail. Derek's life was on the line, and with that a small hybrid girl's life would never be the same, not to mention the spark would never be the same. The Hale had never been a competent alpha, but he had always done his best to protect the town and its people. Even the Nemeton had taken a liking to him and Deaton knew it was a life worth salvaging.  
  
"Almost Stiles, I can sense the magic's eagerness, keep it in control," Alan warned, sensing the way the magic reacted to the proximity of the wolf. It was all Stiles' doing, maybe that's why it was so eager to flow to Derek. It was not like anything he had ever witnessed before. "Once the ritual is done and a success, we have to leave the circle, step over the ring. With the wolf's soul whole, I think the magic will grow as well."  
  
Marin nodded. Even though she wanted to stay closer to feel its strength, there was much there already. "Now!"

The three started to chant, preparing themselves for what they knew was going to be a surge of power drain. They were prepared for it, willing to give all they could so Stiles could do the rest. He was the catalyst, the master of this all, the one building the wall.

The second the chanting started, it was as if Stiles stepped out of his body at the same time while he was very much inside of it. But the physical and metaphysical lines nearly immediately blurred. Deaton's warning was ringing in his ears, though, and he did his best to stay in control, not to let the magic consume him. Even if it felt like that – especially when the other two druid's force joined his, feeding it, growing it. His Spark was ignited by those forces and it melted the energies into one. He could feel the connection to the siblings. How he was feeding from them. With his burning amber eyes he could see the strings so clearly. In the back of his mind he also knew that only one strong thug on them would be enough to drain the druids completely.  
  
But he wasn't there for that. He was there to help his mate. That thought seemed to have given the longed focus for the magic and it enveloped the weak wolf's body, flowing into it through Stiles and their wide-open bonds, which were brighter than ever. Still, Stiles made sure to hold the reigns in not to hurt Derek.  
  
The air was getting scorching hot and thick inside the circle, but there was an invisible wind swirling slowly along the walls. The pressure dropped, making the druids' ears pop. Like the calm before the storm. The other two watched as Stiles closed his eyes, his lips moving around the words of the spell. The veins were pulsing with magic, glowing as if wanting to split his skin, set him on fire. The hands holding Derek were a bright solid amber color while the rune on Stiles' forearm was glowing and burning.  
  
But he wasn't focused on that. No, Stiles was entering Derek through their bonds and the magic they all shared. Deaton was right. He could see it. The lingering darkness, the insanity pressing forward. He could see the burning landscape of Hell, the shadows of unspeakable creatures and terrors lurking, tearing into Derek. And he could see one human-shaped man with the most unsettling lopsided-smile, the cruel cold eyes cutting right into his core.  
  
'Do you really think you can save him from _me_ , little boy? He's my pet _forever_!'  
  
The menacing chuckle that followed made Stiles choke on the word he was saying.  
  
 _It’s not real. He can’t hurt us. It’s not real!  
_  
And with that thought his belief strengthened and the magic rushed forward, forming an amber-colored wall, flowing higher and higher like water, warding off most of the terrifying memories. He wanted to completely lock them up, but remembered how important it was to leave the door ajar... How funny life is, right? They come back to this... Stiles wanted to laugh hysterically.  
  
 _“When is a door not a door?”_ Void cackled into his ear.  
  
He knew the answer to that riddle all too well...  
  
"When it's ajar..." Stiles mumbled.  
  
 _‘That’s right, Stiles. Leave him open to ME, Stiles…’  
_  
"NO! I won't! You can't have him! Leave!"

"Stiles! Stiles, FOCUS!" Deaton's voice echoed through the darkness.  
  
 _It’s not real! They can’t hurt us!  
_  
The second Stiles continued the chanting, the magic thickened inside the circle so much that it became difficult to breathe, but he went on. Kept building the wall, thicker and thicker until he contained all the insanity, all the darkness – except for a sliver of it. Small holes that would let the memories seep through in a much more manageable way.

_You won’t win. I’ll have my chew-toy eventually._

It wasn't Lucifer, not really. But after all that time of being tortured by him, the memories had formed a very lifelike version of him, fighting what Stiles was doing. It wasn't Derek's doing, it wasn't him fighting the help offered. The broken mind, the insanity was attempting to go against it. In the end, Lucifer always won, and of course he wouldn't want to have it differently now.  
  
 _It’s as real as you want it to be. I will always be lurking, Stiles,_ Void lisped harshly, claws digging into the walls to attempt to get at Derek now that it still had a chance. Talons dug into Derek's side, ripping at his flesh to tear him apart and for the first time he reacted by his body straining against Stiles' hold, a loud howl ripping through the loft.  
  
"Keep going, Stiles, it's the final act, you're doing well," Deaton encouraged as he glanced at the blood seeping into the shirt, coloring it dark red. The fact that Derek was getting hurt from a mental attack showed how much Lucifer had gotten into his head, how deep the insanity had reached. It would heal, though, it was only the last desperate act of a long-term conditioning put in the werewolf's head. Almost like it was a real entity in there. And it was Stiles' sheer determination not to lose his mate which started to make this look like it was going to be a success.  
  
 _I will be in your sleep. I will haunt you forever.  
_  
Derek was suspiciously absent during the fight on his mind. He was curled up in the darkness, hands over his ears, rocking himself. Unable to know what was real and what wasn't. Too fuzzy-headed to offer much to his mate who was doing all this hard work to keep their love alive.

Stiles knew that too. That the insanity was fighting him. He suddenly saw and felt it crystal clear. He smelled the blood, heard Derek's howl which shook him to the core too. Even before thinking about it, a portion of the magic rushed to the bleeding sides, healing the claw marks within seconds. The amber flood was all over them, making the air thick with the scent of ozone. Stiles was in control, but he didn't have to do much about it, just think of what he wanted to do, because the magic was eager to help, to heal, to protect...  
  
It was nothing he had felt before. Yes, his Spark has been protective over Derek before, but it never 'stepped up' like this beforehand. It was growing, rumbling, flowing like a tidal wave, strong with its caster's intent to protect, to save. And it kept swelling more and more, as if it was seemingly endless.  
  
"You have no power over us!!" Stiles roared just as loud as his mate did, his aura expanding to half the diameter of the magic circle. It was nearly burning the skin of the siblings, who had to step back towards the mountain ash to be able to breathe and bear the heat.  
  
Thick sweat drops were running down on Stiles' face, soaking his clothes on both him and Derek while the magic was swirling around and inside them freely. His hands were holding Derek in place. Stronger than any human could do with an alpha straining against him.  
  
As he pushed deeper, the bright amber light cut through the darkness and in his mind's eye Stiles could see his cowering mate. His whole arms were glowing, nearly on fire as he extended them to close Derek protectively into them, finally pushing the darkness and the shadows back.  
  
"Look at me, Derek... I'm here. Come back to me..." his voice echoed through the bonds. "Come into my light. You'll be safe there."  
  
"We should step outside right about now..." Deaton told his sister, of course, not hearing the last comments, but they both could feel the surging waves, the pressure and heat around the mates becoming nearly unbearable for outsiders.  
  
"Fascinating..." Morrell's expression showed some real emotions after a very long time, but she let her brother pull her outside the circles.

It would always be Stiles who would find him. Stiles' hand reaching out to him to help him up when he was down. No matter if Derek was drowning, if he was paralyzed, knocked out by a darach, hunted by the FBI... Stiles had been there to get him through it, to be by his side when nobody else would have. Even after all this time, the reason why the human was his anchor stayed the same.  
  
 _The one he trusted, relied on, had his back. Unconditional and forever.  
_  
His home when he had no home, his everything. The darkness wasn't as dark anymore, a flame shone the way so the wolf knew what he had to do. Not stay here, not remain down. Scrambling up, Derek felt the world tilt around him while his legs felt like lead but his focus was on the hand reached out to him, the voice he hated to hear and yet never could have enough of.  
  
"Stiles," he breathed, fingers outstretched, reaching and reaching until... His hand was grabbed and hold on tight, arms wrapped around him to shield him from the light which was growing brighter and brighter to chase away the darkness, forcing it behind the wall.  
  
Alan and Marin could barely see, the duo in the circle was surrounded by light, Stiles bent over his mate protectively to shield him from everything. The heat was too much, forcing them outside of the circle as they watched something they knew was special. Those two broken figures with their constant bickering and weird humor, those two belonged together. They belonged.

"You're safe..." Stiles murmured into Derek's ear not just in their minds, but in the circle too. He didn't need to chant anymore. He had stopped a while back. The magic knew what to do, getting amplified not just from the other two druids but Stiles' Spark itself.  
  
He could feel not just Derek in his arms, but... _everything_. Deaton and Marin. The receding darkness (in both of them) and insanity. The bonds. The Nemeton. The lay lines and their energy...  
  
And with that the accumulation finally stopped and tipped over. For a moment there was absolute stillness and tense silence, only the very building under their feet moaning and groaning for a few seconds, the circle around the mates sizzling up with electricity-like energy as it struggled to contain what was about to come.  
  
Then the magic literally exploded out of Stiles, surrounding them in a massive column of a fiery whirlwind, smoldering ember-like flecks circling in the magic-caused wind around the pair as Stiles' head snapped towards the ceiling, mouth opening on a cry. But instead light came from his eyes and mouth. It was another surge in the magic, fed by the Nemeton as well as he became the perfect vessel, the perfect catalyst.  
  
He could not only see the darkness dissolving and pulling back behind the walls, but himself dissolving in the fiery light too. It would be so easy to give into this massive amount of power. To be controlled by it. To become the Nemeton's and the land's emissary...  
  
But he was already an emissary. And a mate. And those thoughts started pulling him back.  
  
 _Mate. Anchor. Derek.  
_  
"Derek!" he whispered hoarsely. He could feel his heart working overtime, his body being overwhelmed, but just when the ringing in his ears and the lack of air in his burning lungs were starting to get too much, like a magnet, his forearm found the wolf's. His fingers clasped around Derek's as their runes lined up and without a single word uttered, the magic washed through them both differently than before to balance itself. This time without Stiles having to concentrate hard. It knew what to do as he sagged against Derek, but still held onto him for dear life.

For a moment, Deaton feared they were going to lose both of them, and not for the reasons they had anticipated on. This wasn't a failure to build a mental wall, this wasn't Derek going feral, in fact, it was more Stiles on the verge of going rabid. The surge of magic too intense to even keep the eyes open so they had to shield theirs, unable to fully look away from the spectacle happening before them. The older druid's eyes watered as he attempted to keep his sight upon the Stilinski who had turned into a beacon of light.  
  
"He tapped into the Nemeton," Morrell whispered, awestruck at that immensity happening. It was bad, humans weren't meant to wield that much and it was starting to take over. It wanted to engulf and take Stiles since the Nemeton recognized the possibilities offered here, as it had done before. "It's too much."  
  
Alan reached out to stop his sister when she wanted to step forward to aid Stiles. It was no longer their fight, this was something the young man had to do with Derek. The wolf's chances were very promising if this explosion wasn't going to take them. If Stiles would pick the path of the Nemeton, then it was one the Hale couldn't follow, he'd lose his life to give his mate the ascension the ancient tree begged for. Holding his breath, he saw when Stiles made his decision and the magic stopped being such an impending pressure.  
  
Derek felt the magic flowing into his body in the familiar wave of balancing, much more than he had ever been given before, more than his body had to handle. Much of it went to the wall to keep it healthy while the rest swirled around as it familiarized itself with the wolf's body, stored there for safekeeping.  
  
"Did it work? Are we alive?" Derek panted, not sure if he spoke out loud or if he attempted to communicate within their bond. His throat ached, so he assumed he had asked it. It felt like they had been rebuilt, his body was out of sorts and his head weighed like a ton, he couldn't even lift it. It was cradled, held tightly.  
  
"You're alive, I don't know how but you're alive," Deaton answered as he got closer, Morrell cleaning up the circle so it wouldn't keep the wolf trapped within. "Stiles, you can end the balancing, you did it." The voice of the older man was gentle, he doubted either one of the couple was up to move, not for a while. The plan was to get the two in bed and ask Marin to get some supplies from the clinic so he could get Stiles an IV. It was time for healing now. Inside and out.

At first Stiles was reluctant to break the connection. It also took his mind a couple of seconds to understand what Deaton was saying. It was as if he was talking from the other side of a tunnel. Derek's voice was different. He could hear Derek crystal clear, feel his back rumble against his chest, the familiar voice resonating through him and the brightly glowing, thick bonds as if someone plunged on them. It was too much for his oversensitive being which was just soaked and nearly drowned in magic. Yet it was perfect, because it meant that Derek was alive and sane!  
  
With his mind Stiles finally forced his fingers to relax, leaving quickly healing bruises on Derek's skin. He barely had to think of breaking the connection and his arm fell away from the other one. The rune was throbbing and the skin seemingly scorched around it from the amount of magic that had to be balanced, but he didn't care or mind. His shimmering body and mind still felt like floating somewhere in an in-between dimension as his physical body was panting hard, heart still beating too hard and fast for his own good. But his mind and being felt light – for now.  
  
"You 'kay?" he slurred, turning his face towards Derek while he kept it on a broad shoulder. His poor heart skipped a few beats just from the beautiful sight of his mate. It looked as if Derek was glowing too. "Ya have a halo..." he chuckled and oh boy, he might be beyond drunk on the magic. But that didn't stop him from reaching up to touch the bearded face while he half-heard Deaton give instructions to his sister about what to get from the clinic.  
  
They were alive – more or less. And Derek looked and felt saner than for what felt like an eternity. "It worked..." Stiles declared the quite obvious and had a silly lazy smile on his flushed face. His body was still burning up, like smoldering embers, veins lit up but less bright now. He could feel his magic slowly starting to retreat into his Spark.  
  
"Hmm," Derek answered to the question of if he was okay. In this moment it was still to be determined how okay he really was. Everything felt off, his limbs tingled as if they had been asleep for too long, fingers numbs but he could move his toes.... it seemed like. Breathing went well, it didn't seem like there were visible wounds because he couldn't smell the familiar coppery twang of blood, not his nor Stiles'. What he did smell was older and clung to his shirt though there was no real pain creeping up from there so it must have healed, since he did remember the ghost of pain of claws ripping into him.  
  
"You **_are_** a halo," Derek shot back because having a halo was silly and made him chuckle. It wasn't even supposed to be funny, it wasn't funny at all and yet it was hilarious to him so he was probably high on the overload of all that magic. But he didn't slur as much as Stiles did, who sounded downright drunk and completely exhausted. On instinct Derek closed his eyes when the feather light touch of hesitant fingers was felt on his face. Why even close his eyes when he couldn't see? Normally he did that to fully focus on the touch without the sights distracting him. Not that he could focus on much.  
  
Stiles could practically feel Deaton's worried look on him while Marin took off, now able to move freely in and out of the building because Stiles previously tweaked his rune protection.  
  
"Why is he staring at me like that?" he whispered to Derek, at the brink of losing consciousness, but he was fighting it to make sure his mate was okay for real.

A snort came to Stiles asking that and the snort didn't come from the werewolf this time, no it came from the vet himself. "Because you look like you're made out of marbled ember." That alone was enough reason to worry, there was still so much magic lingering, though Alan doubted the Hale could have taken more with the amount already shared. They were both glowing and completely out of it, making him wonder why he bothered answering Stiles. "I'm going to get you both into bed. You first, Stiles."  
  
The Spark was sprawled on top of the werewolf, pupils blown, though it was hard to even locate pupils in the ember glowing sea while Derek's eyes were milky white, which was a curious thing to see. Almost unnatural because the druid was certain they still tracked some sort of movement even though they couldn't focus on one object, seeing through them or past them. Derek was getting used to the blindness remarkably fast. Usually those new to it or experiencing temporary blindness wouldn't attempt to track anything nor swivel their head to people. They'd look ahead and focus on sounds, working too hard on other senses. It was at least promising. Derek would learn to handle the disability for as long as needed because it would need a few weeks at least for the danger of hallucinations to pass.  
  
Heaving a sigh, Deaton helped Stiles into the bed, returning to help Derek who of course protested. "I can do it myself," the wolf growled, onto to topple over the moment Alan released him.  
  
"Yes, I can see that."  
  
Calmly trying again, they took their time to get Derek in bed, the alpha walking slowly while leaning on Deaton heavily. The vet wasn't very comfortable leaving them alone in this state but he had a clinic to open in the morning. The older Stilinski was looking after the daughter and had a job as well, same with Melissa McCall. Their social circle was too small, especially for an alpha werewolf. He ended up texting Chris Argent, asking for help to babysit the couple until they were back on their feet.

"Oh I didn't imagine for my first threesome to be with Deaton!" Stiles exclaimed already from the bed, his mind clearly working slower with the comprehending of words said, hence the delay. "It sounds weird..." he giggled uncontrollably on that and rolled onto his back.  
  
"The room is spinning. Why is it spinning?" he asked no one in particular and not really expecting an answer, because with his next sentence he answered himself. "Ah yes, the magic... Don't worry Deaton... It'll eventually pull back. It's already... Can feel it," he mumbled, lifting a hand with some difficulty and looked at the glowing veins in awe, twisting his hand in the air. It was at least not full on amber anymore. His skin looked though as if it was cracked, but it was only an illusion made by the amber veins. "I'm pretty," he concluded and dropped his hand back down on the bed when he felt the mattress dip next to him, which announced the arrival of his heavy buff werewolf.  
  
"Ma wolf..." he purred happily and with some effort rolled back onto his side to move an arm around Derek, holding him close. The very much out of it Stiles nuzzled into the other man's neck, inhaling him deeply. It was a familiar mixture of Derek's natural musky scent, sweat, shower gel and the distinct smell of ozone, which was sticking to their skin heavily from all the magic they shared.  
  
"You're safe..." Stiles repeated, eyes already half-closed. They did it. He knew that at least and that 'Hmm' was enough of an answer for him to finally relax, the magic pulling some more back into the Spark deep within. Feeding it, making it brighter and with that Stiles stronger. "Think 'm gonna faint now..." he announced and then did just that, his body going limp against Derek.  
  
"I'm going to check his vitals," Deaton announced so Derek knew too what he was going to do. He took the wrist around Derek's stomach and turned it to be able to press his fingers against it, counting in his head in silence for a while. "His heart is still beating a bit too fast and he appears to have a light fever, but that might be just because of the magic..." he said to Derek, not sure if he was clear enough to comprehend what he was saying, but guessed the wolf would like to know his diagnosis. "Marin will bring some potions and other things over. I'll put an IV in his arm. The magic took its toll on his body, but he should stabilize and be okay soon enough. He needs rest, just like you."

Rest, that's all Derek had been doing. Sleeping but never resting much. Derek must have given a cranky look because Deaton laughed softly as if the wolf was hilarious. "I can't sleep. He needs somebody to look after him," Derek protested, getting even grumpier when the vet decided he needed a look over as well, only tolerating it because the man told him what he was doing before he did it.  
  
"I'm staying here for a few hours. Chris Argent will take over then because you're in no position to look after anybody, Derek. You can't even lift your head."  
  
The alpha wanted to protest by pointedly lifting his head but wasn't very successful in it though he swore it was like an inch of movement. Apparently all of the magic had wiped him out as much as it had done with the sleeping human next to him. He couldn't see if the magic was still visible but he felt the warmth radiating from Stiles. It was an unnatural kind of pulsing heat which let him know it hadn't receded yet. They had been lucky Stiles hadn't blown himself up with overtaxing as he had done. Derek hadn't been given all of the overload but it was a lot in him still, settling within slowly as if it had some trouble creating room. It meant that if there was this much magic again to be balanced out, he'd be more used to it and that was a good thing.  
  
Deaton released his wrist, concluding the physical checkup. "How do you feel in your head? The insanity?" It was asked matter of fact, no hesitation or beating around the bush this time. Alan was good at that when it came to asking questions, but not so much when it came to giving answers. It was an invasive question to ask but the wolf was well-aware of how much the two siblings were helping them when they didn't have to.  
  
"Less pressure, too soon to say much though." The insanity wasn't going to be gone, it was shielded from him, trickling in a bit at a time. It wasn't that all the memories were suppressed but he couldn't get to them completely either. Like they were there, and there were not. "I'll always be borderline insane from now on, right? Voices, hallucinations... memories of Hell?"  
  
"You will at times experience uncertainty about what is real, yes. Your PTSD won't be magically cured so expect nightmares and triggers. I think we should speak weekly to determine ways for you to know what is real and what's not. All that time in Hell makes you susceptible to certain 'realms' hidden from you before, as you know. Not all beings will appreciate being seen. Much like Stiles, there is a door opened within you and they will exploit that. Being Lucifer's pet for so long will bring behavior with it, he must have heavily conditioned you."  
  
Derek nodded at all that, he hadn't thought it would be so easy as putting a wall in his mind and all was well. "Lots of work to be done."  
  
"Much," Deaton agreed. "Give it a month or so before letting Stiles heal your sight. It will take a lot out of him and you're still caught between Hell and here. As you know, it takes around two weeks for it to fade."

"Must protect him.... Must... protect the land..." Stiles' voice cut into the conversation just then, though he was deeply asleep.  
  
Both men stared at him (well, Derek just turned his head towards his mate) for a few moments before Deaton hummed.  
  
"The Nemeton's influence is strong over him at the moment. In order to battle the darkness and insanity, he had to tap into that connection too. It nearly overwhelmed him and took him away. You have to remember, Derek, that it can happen any time he reaches for power through that bond. Things are complicated even more because you both have a separate connection to the Nemeton and those connections also meet somewhere inside the bonds you share as mates and emissary," Deaton said on a serious tone as he was sitting on the edge of the bed. "You cannot let him give in to the Nemeton's pull. You have to pull him back to you. We've got lucky this time because he was too much focused on saving you. Next time you might not be that lucky unless you find it in yourself to hold your mate as he did to you today. It's important. Because it can cost your life and Stiles to go rabid, a servant of the Nemeton and the land. I suspect he was close to tapping into the lay lines too and even I don't know the consequences of that. But this already put a tremendous pressure on his physical form and I'm not keen on finding out what might happen if the lay lines' power ads to this too," he finished the perhaps longest monologue he had ever told to Derek, which signaled the importance of the topic.

The Nemeton's pull was strong, Derek knew that from experience and honestly, he couldn't even stop the tree from using Derek for its own nefarious reasons, let alone something as big as this. Was their love enough to stop Stiles from giving into all that power? To stop despite the knowledge that if he did, he'd protect the entire town and not just his mate? Stiles was a fighter, he'd do anything to keep the people he cared about safe, anything at all.  
  
The last thing Derek cared about was his own life getting lost, but he did care about Stiles becoming property of the Nemeton. It would burn the human out, it would destroy him eventually. It would be a short life and most likely not much of a life at all. So he nodded to Deaton's words, a frown on his face. Jennifer had tapped into the lay lines, and it hadn't been anything good. With power came a darkness and Stiles still had that shadow of the Nogitsune within him, that darkness when he had sacrificed himself to the Nemeton. The tree was neutral and would go with whatever sway a druid would throw at it. So it could easily be influenced to become more than a beacon to the Supernatural.  
  
"That's why Jennifer wanted the sacrifices and me… for the power of the lay lines."  
  
"The Nemeton requires sacrifices to power itself, and with all the blood spilled on it due to Julia and Parrish, it had only gotten more powerful. Your sacrifice saved it from dying. Stiles' empowered it even more. Julia wanted to be the catalyst that Stiles already is. You're the chemical reaction to set it off, it started with you."  
  
The wolf sighed at that, it always started with him. He was always stuck in-between and was the reason why people got hurt or killed around him. He wasn't going to let Stiles be the next one. "I won't let it happen." Big promise to make, but an honest one. Stiles was not going to turn into a darach, not on his watch.

"Good. Seeing Stiles and you succumb to that would be something I personally wouldn't like to see. My sister would disagree, but I have my reasons. I believe the two of you are destined to be special. You already are. With time you'll grow into the greatest protectors Beacon Hills has ever seen. If you keep each other on the right path." For once the druid shared his thoughts openly, because he felt like it had to be said. That his words would take root in the wolf's mind. Nothing happened without a reason.  
  
Just then they heard the elevator starting to ascend, which signaled Morrell's return with the requested supplies.  
  
"You'll be good for this town, Derek. Try to keep this in mind," he said before going to the bathroom to wash his hands and prepare for tending the mates as best as he could before Chris' arrival.

Special... Derek didn't want to be special. He didn't want to have power nor cared much for being the center of attention. So those words honestly didn't entice him at all, which showed the difference between the two older druids and him. Derek stayed here because Scott was at college and somebody had to protect the town with a beacon. He stayed here because at the time had nowhere else to go and now wouldn't go anywhere else anymore. He wanted a pack, a family life, some normalcy to his werewolf existence. To help others with nowhere to go so they weren't feeling as alone as he had felt. Derek had discovered that his own family, or what was left of it, wouldn't be much help. Peter cared about power, he wasn't one to be trusted and the older man was gone as much as he was here. Cora was still a stranger to him although they tried to patch it all up but there had never been much time and as much as Derek reached out to her, she never returned the favor. She had her own life now, he'd come running if she needed help but otherwise he accepted her choice to have that separate life. Derek wasn't part of it.  
  
His family was his daughter Beth, his mate Stiles and Stiles' father Noah. Those were the ones who mattered, the ones he wanted to stay on the right path for. Not some promise from a druid about being special, that he was going to be the greatest protector of the town. Derek's path was fluid, he did what was needed, he would protect whoever was in danger and he didn't do it because of some higher purpose in life. He did it for his pack.  
  
Just as he had went to Hell for his daughter, as he had given up half of his soul and the power that came with it to get her and himself out of Hell. It was the sole reason why he had accepted that half back even when he knew it wasn't a good thing anymore since it had been a toy to Lucifer himself. But without most of his soul, he'd lose his emotions, he'd become cold and hard, dangerous as a werewolf. His mate and his daughter needed him to be fully there so the soul was back and it was going to take a long time to get over the brokenness of all the torture. He had taken his own eyes also to protect Stiles.  
  
It wasn't for power, it was for love.  
  
Quietly he listened to Deaton set up an IV, tolerated yet another potion to be brought to his lips to drink from, even though he knew it was to make him sleep. Deaton had no idea, Derek concluded as he succumbed to the lulling darkness of sleep.


End file.
